Revival
by audreyslove
Summary: Five years after being declared dead, Robin is found and returned home, only to find his wife is engaged to another man, and he has a son he never met. Written for OQ Advent.
1. Chapter 1

**Written for OQAdvent 2017. This ended up working better as a multichapter instead of one giant verse so i'm posting it as such. Enjoy :)**

* * *

It's the absolute worst time to get this phone call.

There have been plenty of moments over the past four years where Regina would be in the right headspace to get such a call, she'd be thrilled, relieved, as if the gods had answered her prayers from up above.

But the call comes in that hazy afterglow of a well-spent session of sex with her fiancé, while their limbs are tangled in one another and breath is coming out in pants against each other's skin.

She's feeling something she might call _content,_ she might call _cheerful_ (rare for her, since her happily-ever-after was taken from her forever). It's post-orgasm fog, but it's _nice,_ her mind is blissfully blank of the pain and longing and mourning that can creep up and cloud her thoughts before she goes to bed.

And then her cell phone rings. Something tells her she should answer. It's rather late, and her children are safely in bed, but… she gets this eerie feeling that the phone call may be important.

So she stretches, reaches towards her night stand and answers.

"Mrs. Locksley?" A monotone voice answers.

Pain bursts behind her eyes, erupts in her heart, and it's sweet, even now, to hear his name.

"Miss," she corrects, just above a whisper, "My husband, he passed, I go by—"

"Ma'am, I'm with General Gold, head of National Security, and we have something sensitive to discuss with you. It pertains to your husband. Are you alone?"

"I'm… I'm with my fiancé…" she chokes. "Whatever this is about you can say in front of him."

There's a sucking of air audible on the other line, and the pause seems infinite, until the silence is broken with a sigh.

"Ma'am, if you're not already doing so, you're going to want to sit for this," the voice dictates.

"I'm sitting," she stutters. "What is it? Are we in danger? Are Roland and Henry, are they—"

That spurs David, has him turning to her perplexed, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder and mouthing a _What?_

She shrugs and points to the phone, confused.

"No one's in danger." Assures the voice, and she breathes a sigh of relief. "Not anymore. Mrs. Locksley, your husband is alive. He's in our custody. We're taking him home."

There are more words that follow, a carefully crafted explanation, but the world goes black, and she's falling and spinning into an endless pit.

This can't be happening.

They told her he died. She held a funeral for him, where she cloaked her pregnant body in black and stood stunned and afraid and _alone_.

She mourned him, she cried over him countless nights and begged for this to all be a bad dream.

And she finally — _finally_ came to terms with the sad reality of this, tried to make the most of her family's new life and now...

Robin is alive. He survived, he's come back from the dead. The man they executed wasn't him after all.

It was just a man wearing his press badges.

It's all she's ever wanted since the moment they told her he was killed, to hear it was some mistake, that he's alive, and coming home to her and their Henry and the son he's never met.

But now she tastes bile on her tongue, as guilt eats her like a cancer from the inside out. Because she can't remember the last time she has cried over Robin, and she doesn't believe she's even thought of him all day, and for fuck's sake she was just riding one of his friends into the ground, fucking him like there's no tomorrow.

It's a dream come true and a nightmare all at once.

The feelings battle inside her until pure elation and shock win out.

"Ma'am?" the man asks, "The governor wants to speak with you, he—"

"Please, is this a joke?" she asks dumbly, "If this is some cruel prank I swear to god—"

"No prank. Robin Locksley is alive and on a plane to Washington as we speak."

"I… when can I see him?" she asks. "Is he badly hurt? How did he escape, how did he—"

"I don't know too many of the details, Mrs. Locksley. But yes, your husband is alive. The plane will land in a few hours, and I figured you'd like to know before the press get to this— which, I expect will happen any minute. And I know it's late, but we wanted to pick you up, if your children can be looked after, just to talk more about this, to tell you what to expect, and—"

He tells her where and when they will go to meet her _husband,_ her _Robin,_ the man who was apparently beheaded on live television nearly five years ago. She's giving them the address of her home in the fog somewhere, but she can't remember why. She still doesn't understand, everything spins and swirls as she realizes the love of her life will get to hold Roland for the first time. She will be able to touch him again, hold him, be held by him, she will look into those eyes and hear that voice she still dreams about and—

"Regina?" David asks, dipping to plant a kiss to her shoulder. "What's going on, beautiful, who was tha—"

It's when he moves to put his hand around her that she snaps as a reflex. "Don't touch me!" She orders, staring at him as if he's just tried to strip her nude and fuck her in public. And then she gets up and says, "I… I need to get dressed."

"Who was that on the phone?" he asks "And what is going on? What did I—"

"Robin is alive," she says plainly, shimmying into some old jeans and looking for a tee shirt in her drawer. "He's alive, David, it was some sort of mistake, he switched IDs with Chuck Adams, so—"

"Oh, Regina…" he looks at her with such pity. "I want him to be alive too, I do, but you can't—"

"It's true, David!" she whispers harshly, "I can tell the difference between a prank call and a real one, and this was real." Was it though? It's late and she's full of guilt and self-loathing and she's so desperate for her children's father, she has such vivid dreams sometimes...

Oh god, is she picking out the outfit she will wear when she sees her husband for the first time in nearly half a decade?

Oh fuck, she's aged fifteen years in the last five, they've been so rough on her, and it shows in her wrinkled skin, her weathered hands, _Jesus_ , will he even recognize her? Of course he will, but will he still find her attractive? That's a different story. Fuck, she needs a better outfit, and she better do her hair and makeup, she still has that red dress he likes (couldn't bear to throw it out), with the little keyhole neckline, it's a bit too summery for this late autumn weather, and it might not fit as well as it once did, but it will do, and—

"Regina, darling, come back to bed."

 _Fuck,_ that's right. David, she's with _David_ now, she is practically thinking about what her late (no longer late) husband would most like to fuck her in, which she has no right to do because there won't _be_ any fucking, he died, he left her against her wishes, took that job in a war torn country when she was four months pregnant. He did that, got himself captured and killed, even though he promised he'd come back to her, _promised_ her….

And David has been so good to her, he's held her while she cried, cared for Henry when she couldn't, he helped her through the tough moments of pregnancy when she thought she'd lose Roland in her grief. He reminded her to eat, soothed her into sleep when nothing else worked, he took the bloody broken pieces of her soul and nursed her back to life and she owes him _everything._

"David, I…" Tears form behind her eyes and her stomach twists and turns.

And then bright lights flood their bedroom, and David frowns and jumps to the window, peering behind the curtain.

He doesn't doubt that phone call anymore, it seems, because he looks white as a ghost as he announces. "There's a military vehicle parked in our driveway."


	2. Chapter 2

She's waiting at the flight gate of a restricted military base, still in shock.

She's had hours of being prepped for the worst, and she should be bleary eyed and sleepy, but instead her nerves are on end, and too worked up to even blink. It's a combination of her Christmas morning as a child and that moment right before a big exam - that combination of two very different kinds of anticipation battling for dominance inside her.

Sleep isn't an option.

By now the news has leaked to press, and reporters swarm outside, but she's been promised privacy to " _talk"_ to her husband, to fill him in on what he has missed.

David will keep the children away from the press, he promised her that, they will order in and watch movies all day, he will lie and tell them she's had something come up at work and shield them from the news stations. God, she hopes reporters don't show up at her home, but there's some police who promised to keep watch, to protect the children.

Her heart is pounding and none of this feels real. She keeps pinching herself, keeps trying to count the ways this _can't_ be another one of those vivid dreams. She feels the warm touch of the officer's hand as he guides her to a place to sit, the cold metal as she sits. It's real… and yet somehow she can't let herself believe it.

Of course, she's been tortured with thoughts he may be an imposter, that this is all a mistake. That at the end of the day he will still be gone and all those old scars split open into wounds just as deep and fresh as the day she was told he died.

"Do you have a picture of him?" she asks the nice soldier who has been keeping her company.

He shakes his head sadly and bites his lip. "They were fixing him up and uh… I'm sorry _,_ ma'am, I know this is hard for you." His voice softens as she wipes at a fresh set of tears that pool and drop from her eyes. "He wanted to look nice for you, he asked us not to send the picture from when he was first found. He got cleaned up, I hear. And got someone to help him cut his hair and shave, that sort of thing."

The soldier bites his lip, as if he is worried for Robin. Regina knows he saw David in his nightclothes as she left. He knows she's with someone else, and she feels horribly judged at the moment. The soldier pauses and adds, "He said he wants to look the way you and his son remember him."

And she's swept away by guilt and love, conflicted feelings of bliss and self-hatred. God, that stupid man. She misses him so much.

She's so damn _grateful_ that Robin is alive, but she's also with someone else and she has to tell him that — and soon.

It's not as if her engagement with David has been announced anywhere, she's a private person, but it's only a short time before _that_ makes national news too, and she owes it to Robin to tell him herself before he learns it from someone else.

So she has to tell him, but all she wants to do is wrap herself around him, hold him tight and never let him go, to spend a week just grasping at her family now that it is whole again (it's not, it's been fractured and now it's not _his_ fault it's broken, it's _hers,_ isn't it?)

It's a frantic few hours of frazzled nerves before the nice man next to her urges her to her feet. "They landed," he says quietly. "He's coming, now."

It's another few minutes before he sets foot in the room and even _that_ is painful.

Her heart is in her throat when she sees him.

People are helping him walk (why are they helping him walk?!) he's sunburned and thin, so thin. His hair is gray now, grayer than the small flecks that had started to form when he left her.

He looks so fragile and worn, but when he sees her his eyes light up, and she sees him exactly as the man she left.

"Regina!" he cries, those eyes twinkling in the fluorescent light.

She can't stand still anymore, she's been asked to wait, but fuck it all, she runs past military personnel and politicians alike, she runs to him, into his arms as he is pushing away from the people propping him up, trying to get to her.

His body is different than the one she knows, he's smaller now, layers of muscle gone, leaving him hollow and bony. So he feels a bit different, less solid, less _real,_ but it's nothing less than wonderful to touch him again. He's still familiar, still _hers._

She's sobbing into his shoulder, and he's whispering _Shhh_ to her, before a heartfelt, smooth and sweet as honey, _I love you._

"I love you," she sobs in shaky breath, "I missed you."

"I know," he assures, and then he has to go and make her feel like absolute crap by adding "I'm sorry."

"Don't," she warns, squeezing him tighter, "please don't, not now, I…"

She can't finish what she wants to say without sobbing, god this is too hard, she can't believe he's here.

It seems minutes has passed and she's still not moved from his embrace.

"You're probably exhausted and want to sit down," a warm voice says to him, to her, to either. "We have a place for you to… catch up, in private."

It's a nice woman who seems sympathetic for their need of privacy, and she is grateful.

"Can't I just go home?" Robin asks, "It's been... I just want to go home to see my family."

"I'm sorry, sir. We have questions, we can't let you leave Washington just yet."

He nods slightly, taking in a breath and looking at Regina, cupping her cheek. "Alright. Then let's go to wherever you're sending us."

.::.

It's a short drive in a limousine with him and many other strangers she knows only from the news, soldiers, some sort of press agent who is asking for Regina's phone so she doesn't leak anything potentially classified.

And then there's Robin's arm around her, fingers swirling, urging her against him as he plants kisses into her hair. She can't keep her hands off him either, scratching at the back of his neck, kissing his forehead and hair (maybe she should not keep doing this but it feels so damn _right_ ).

"You smell so good," he whispers into her ear, burying himself into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, "and feel so good, and god, you're so gorgeous, I—," he's whispering so lightly in her ear, planting little stuff and kisses, but there are people in this limo with them and she suddenly feels very on display.

Luckily someone speaks up to break their moment.

"We have a lot to prepare for. There will be a press conference and it would help if Robin was there, you know, give the press what they want, so the mystery is gone, and they can leave you alone… or so we'd hope. And of course, Robin, we are going to want to talk to you about those years more extensively…" This press secretary, Ingrid Frost, is no nonsense. Her voice is calming but there's no way Regina can discuss such matters without a wave of anxiety running through her.

But Robin is not listening to anything she says, Regina knows, because he hasn't stopped looking at _her_ for one moment. And it's killing her because he is biting his lip and staring at her in _that_ way, looking her up and down, and her belly goes warm, flashes of things entirely inappropriate come to mind.

"...but I guess those things can wait until after you've talked," Ingrid offers, a clipped smile on her lips. The car comes to a stop at the back entrance to a hotel, it seems. Regina's stomach lurches. "Come on. We'll give you two some privacy."

.::.

They are deposited in a suite, which actually makes her less stressed. The bedroom door is closed, there's just a comfy couch with a coffee table full of food around it.

"Do you want something?" Regina asks nervously, motioning towards the food on the coffee table before she runs towards it. There's rolls, and cheese and a platter of charcuterie. "I could fix you a sandwich, or—"

"Regina," he says, closing the distance between them, until he can reach out and cup her jaw. "Darling, sit down, I can't think about food right now, despite the fact I've been dreaming of cheese for the past five years."

She is so nervous, but she can't help but laugh, and nod. And then she's hugging him again, tightly, the wind knocked out of her as he holds her against him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers again. And no, not this again.

"Please don't. Not after all you've been through, I—"

"You told me not to go," he says as if she needed a reminder. He breaks the embrace to pull back and look her in the eyes, "you didn't want me to leave our son—"

"Our son _s,"_ Regina says slowly. And she sees the happy smile on his face and it makes her angry, and she hates that it makes her angry.

"A boy," he smiles. "Can I see a picture?"

She nods, and opens her phone, loads it up and hands it to him. She's anticipated this, opening it to a folder he can scroll through that is just Roland and Henry and her. No soon-to-be new husband complicating things. It wasn't hard to organize such a folder anyway - she finds there aren't many pictures of the four of them, despite how much time they spend together, they just haven't made the jump to family photos.

"Roland," she says, before he can ever think to ask, "I wanted to honor your father the way we honored mine."

His eyes go bright and shiny, and she almost can't look, he's so elated, so happy. "I can't wait to meet him," he stutters. "Does he… does he know about me?"

"Of course," Regina says in a breathless laugh, "Henry and I tell him about you all the time, and your mom— she gave us all your old yearbooks, and has all these stories…." She shakes her head. "He tells all his friends about his daddy, the adventurer and mischief maker. He's very proud."

"He looks so happy, so healthy," he smiles at her sadly, "And big. It kills me that I missed watching them grow. You told them… they know I love them, right?"

"Yes," she whispers, letting tears fall down her cheek. "Of course they know. They know their dad… was… _is_ now, I guess, a hero."

He sighs and shakes his head. "I'm not a hero. Not everyone who gets captured is a hero. I was just on the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You volunteered to stay with Chuck while others ran off," Regina reminds him. "I know that. I was angry about that. But it still makes you a hero."

"I don't think I can ever repay you for raising our children these last years when I couldn't," he says, voice shaking, "you're so strong, darling, you've always been so..."

She loses it then, shakes her head as she sobs, because he's so wrong, so so wrong.

"I'm _not,_ Robin, I _wasn't,_ I—"

"Shhh…" his voice is so familiar and so soothing, his arms are around her, bony now but so warm. "God, I know it wasn't easy but it takes a strong woman to raise the healthy happy looking children I see in those pictures."

"I was a mess, it changed me, so much. I'm sure you can tell, I don't even look like the same person anymore. I cut my hair, it looks—."

"Regina, you look exactly the same, the same woman from my dreams," he insists. He takes her back into his arms, and it feels warm and safe but… a reminder that things are different.

"You're so thin," she sighs worriedly. "Jesus, Robin I missed you so much, I worried about you, they told me you hadn't — couldn't have been tortured long, that it was over quick, that I should take solace in—" a sob breaks loose "but it's been five years, _five years,_ I can't imagine—"

"I'm alright," he whispers, "whatever you're picturing is probably worse than I went through. It's okay, love."

"It's not," she says over a whisper, "I can feel…" she slides her hands over a raised line down his back. He shivers. "I keep picturing what they did to you, what I can't see…"

He sighs, pulling back from the hug. "Do you want me to show you? I will, darling, and well… I don't look the same, I know, but it's still me, I'm fine."

She can't help but nod. She has to see, her mind is racing, worried about his back covered in scars and his torso covered in barely healing gashes.

He smiles and presses a quick kiss to her lips, and then he offers her a smile and tells her. "It's alright, love, I'm not in any pain."

She nods, and watches as he gingerly takes off his shirt.

He's too skinny. He's not starved looking, not really, but the outline of some ribs show. His arms are still muscular, but thinner. The muscular abs she used to scratch up and down are whittled away to nothing.

And there's… marks. They are healed, and old, and smaller than she suspected, but they are there, small scars litter his body, and she itches to touch.

So she does. She's not thinking about the fact that she shouldn't be touching him like this because she's engaged and hasn't even told him that important detail. She's not thinking about that right now, because all she can think of is all the pain he had to suffer alone when no one was there to comfort him.

So she's stroking the marks on his stomach and arms, and kissing each mark. Tears are leaking onto his body as she moves over each one, and she can hear him, whispering that he's alright, that they are old, that he's not in any pain now, but she doesn't process any of his words. Christ, this poor man.

"Turn around," she requests, gripping at his shoulder. "I need to see—"

He nods, but adds, "Regina, I was caned, but only twice and both were within my first three months there, alright? I wasn't—"

She's moving him before he can convince her it's nothing.

It's not quite as bad as the pictures of the backs of torture victims she's seen on the news but that doesn't stop it from being awful. It's only two long raised scars, crisscrossing over his perfect back, smaller bumps are noticeable, little closed welts that have faded into barely visible discoloration.

But that doesn't stop her from visualizing the pain.

"Jesus, Robin," she shudders.

She kisses his back, traces the scars with her fingertips as she cries into his back. "You were in such pain for so long and I—"

" _Shh_ , love it's alright." He spins in her touch, cups her chin and in a fluid motion kisses away her tears. "I swear I'm fine, and they don't bother me, the scars, nothing hurts, not anymore." Tears still fall, and he's still planting kisses on her cheeks, her brow, her forehead. "Don't cry, please, not for me, not for me darling…"

Every last emotion she's tried to bottle up over the years, all that pain, all that fear, all her worry, and the longing and the missing and the loving and the loneliness, it all comes back like a tidal wave, and she loses all thought. When his lips press against hers she kisses back eagerly, jumps against him as he holds her tight against her body. He opens his mouth for her and she takes, tastes his tongue again, and massages hers against his.

He kisses the same, it feels good, so good, electric and spine tingling, and all that is right and true.

She keeps kissing him, it's hurried and passionate now, one of his hands is tangled in her hair, the other anchored at the small of her back, scraping against there the way she likes. "I love this dress," he murmurs as his hand sweeps lower, cups at the swells of her bottom, and god, it feels so good, it's a punch to her core, makes her want more, so much more, and it's not until she actually thinks about his tongue on her clit that she snaps back to reality and realizes how unfair this is.

She pulls back in his embrace, mouth parting from his. She's breathless and panting, but manages to gasp out, "Robin, we can't do this."

"Yes we _can_ ," he urges, though he stops immediately, drops his hands from their place around her. "God, Regina, yes we _can,_ I promise you, of all the things we can and can't do, this— please I need you, I've missed—"

"No, I have to tell you something." she says, mind swimming with guilt.

That seems to shock him, and realization dawns on his face. "Oh my love, I don't care what happened in the past, whatever it is, it doesn't matter, I—"

He's so open and forgiving as he opens his hands towards her, and she doesn't deserve his comfort right now.

"I met someone," she snaps, moving away from him. Her heart almost breaks to look at his pained expression.

"Is it— is it serious?" He asks, so worried, so nervous, god this will hurt.

No, she thinks. It's not. But also yes, it is. She may not love David the way she had Robin, he may never hold her heart that way, but he's wonderful to her children. He's the only father figure Roland has, so yes, it's serious.

"I— _we're_ engaged."

He swallows heavily, studies her face, and then it hits him. He leaves her, steps away, frowning.

"I see."

His eyes fly to her empty left hand, and he looks puzzled, betrayed. Of course she had not worn it, she never does, but he doesn't know that, and now he must feel like she tricked him.

"I wondered why you wore our wedding band on your right hand. I figured it was because you thought you were widowed, but it seems you just needed to make space for the new one, huh?"

"Robin, it's not—"

"So tell me this epic love story," he snipes bitterly, as he sits down on the couch. "While I was being beaten in a cramped hot cell, tell me about the new man who swept you off your feet."

"I thought you were _dead,"_ she reminds, this isn't fair, nothing is fair. "I went to your funeral, I _mourned_ you, I—"

"Mm, and you must look back on that day fondly. The day your old life could end and you could be open for the new love of your life, huh?"

"That's not fair," she gripes. "Your funeral, I would say it was the worst day of my life but that was the day they told me you died, told me not to check the internet, because you were beheaded on live television, do you have any idea the _fear_ I had of Henry accidentally seeing that, of—"

"How inconvenient that they beheaded the wrong guy," Robin gripes, "Chuck and I had traded badges, they thought they were keeping the celebrity but oh, it ended up they kept the handyman, the video and IT tech, trust me the terrorists were just as upset as you."

"I prayed to a god I don't believe in and begged for you to come back to us more times than I can count!" she bites back, "You have no idea, and then—"

"How long before you met this guy — what's his name?"

She sighs. "I… okay Robin this is going to upset you—"

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Oh yes we certainly wouldn't want to _upset_ me. Just tell me, do I know him? Is it Graham? Did you rekindle—"

"God no!" She cries, disgusted. They both hate Graham, of course it wasn't her old idiot ex-boyfriend.

"Who?" he asks.

She slides down on the opposite end of the couch, unable to look at him like the coward she is. Her eyes focus on the plush carpet as she exhales slowly into her lap. "David. It's David."

"David?!" He asks, rising from his couch in a rage. "David, my friend David, David _Nolan?_ Fuck I should have known, you two were always so close, I—"

"Robin it wasn't ever like that!" she argues, because it wasn't, they were platonic acquaintances before their hearts were collectively broken, before grief put them together.

"Oh wasn't it? If you're so in love now that you agreed to marry the guy are you going to sit here and tell me you never wanted him when we were together? When the four of us would go out on double dates, just one of my best mates and his girl… and I always thought it was nice that you got along with him, but I didn't see what was brewing under the surface, for fucks sake my best _friend,_ Regina, fuck!"

David's not his best friend, he knows that and she does, too. His best friend has always been John, and Will, but she's not going to argue much with him because he's hurting and he has every right to be.

"I didn't plan this," she insists, "I didn't plan any of this! It just happened, Robin, Kathryn left him a week before you died, and he just… he threw himself into helping me, and—"

"You let me kiss you," he says, still so hurt and shocked, "you kissed me back, you, I thought you _wanted_ me, were you going to give me a pity fuck? An _I'm sorry you got tortured here's a freebie_ hand job? What was your plan, Regina? Why on earth would you let me get all excited and not tell me sooner?"

"Because I missed you and I didn't want you to look at me the way you're looking at me now!" she sobs, "I'm sorry if it's selfish but I just wanted a few moments before I dropped—"

"It is selfish, you've got that right," he agreed, snarling. "Now for fuck's sake, please leave and go back to your family. Sorry to have troubled you. I should have had them call my mother or someone who wouldn't so easily stop loving me."

"I—" but she can't speak, can't do anything but cry and murmur an apology.

He doesn't look at her, but she sees how his eyes are full of tears. He's too proud to let them fall.

She manages a choked out "Mom is on her way. John and Will too, I called them, they should be here shortly, I figured… you might not want me around—"

"You figured right," he snarls, "But I do want to see Henry and…" he swallows heavily. "I want to see Roland. And I expect you can at least—"

"Mom will take you to them," Regina assures quickly. "She knows, she—"

"You can't still call her that, you know?" His voice goes sharp and biting, "She's not 'mom' to you anymore."

And that's a stab to the heart, a purposefully mean thing he _knows_ will stay with her. Rose has been the only mother she's ever known. Cora was so cruel, so awful to her that she hasn't spoken a word to her since her father died. And then there was Rose, all motherly and accepting of her, loved her as her own. And she loves her back.

He's angry, and in pain, and the fact he's trying to hurt her after all this time is mind-blowingly devastating to her. And now he's going to take away her mother out of spite, as if she weren't hurting enough.

"Robin," she looks at him in a fleeting moment of desperation. She wants to kneel at his feet and beg him for forgiveness, tell him she made a mistake, a terrible one, that her love for him never went way, that David and her are not in love in _that_ way, that it's more complicated than that…

But he's weak and hurting and he's been through enough, and the last thing he needs is her asking for another thing from him.

So she just swallows a sob and nods. "I'm sorry. _Your_ mom will be here soon. I'm going to— I'm going to go, if—"

He nods but doesn't look at her, and she can only imagine his expression as she shuts the door, eyes never leaving the back of his head.


	3. Chapter 3

He hates himself.

He's hated himself for years now, but hell, he's just added another ripe old reason to hate himself.

He knows he's being unfair, he _knows_ she did nothing wrong. He was gone. She had— has— every right to find a new love.

But it hurts, thinking of her moving on from him the way he moved on from Marian. And that's what replays in his mind.

Because he thought his love with Marian was the love of a lifetime, and then Regina had changed everything. She had become his happily ever after, his whole world.

And now Regina went through the whole terrible process with him and came out on the other side — with his _friend,_ for fuck's sake, and he hates it, hates every last bit of it.

She had every right to move on, Robin repeats to himself, the heart wants what it wants, and he was dead and she deserves love and sex. But he's been pining and dreaming about her for years, dreams of holding her, of kissing her, of going to mundane family dinner dates and playing scrabble and monopoly and sleeping next to her warm body, dreams of being inside her, of feeling those familiar squeezing tremors as she comes around him, hearing that little sound she makes in the back of her throat, that rolling hum as she reaches her peak.

He's dreamed of all of that, and it got him through every moment of these last almost five years. And now none of it will ever happen, and it's not Regina's fault, not at all (it's his fault for taking that bloody job, he knows that), but it hurts just the same.

And he hates David, hates him for stealing his _wife,_ and all he can think of is how long that sack of shit lusted over the woman by his side, how long it took for him to make a move on _his_ Regina.

He's still fuming, still lost and upset when his mum comes in.

"Robin, my god, Robin, my baby!"

She runs to him, throwing her arms around him the second he gets up. "Oh, sweetheart you're alive. I can't believe—"

He has to comfort _her,_ has to hold her and tell her it is all okay. He doesn't want to answer questions about those five years, says so when she starts to ask what happened to him.

"I just need my mum right now," he admits, feeling absolutely pathetic at the request, "I don't want to talk about anything else, just, please—"

Rose wraps her arms around him again and hugs him, lets him cry like the baby he is.

"I'm sorry, Robin, I'm sorry I can't take the hurt away."

"It was so awful, mum, and now I'm here and… She left me," he croaks, and his mum sighs and shakes her head against his shoulder.

"Oh sweetheart, Regina did _not_. I can tell you that for certain. She never left you. We thought you were dead, had thought that for years, but she remained with you, always."

"She's getting remarried," he bites.

"I know," she answers, "of course I know. And I understand it hurts. If you need to be mad at her for now, be as mad as you like. Whatever helps."

"Nothing will help," he grimaces. "Aren't _you_ angry at her? She just moved on, and with fucking David Nolan."

"You can be mad at _fucking David Nolan_ for as long as you'd like." She offers, sad smile on her face. And he realizes it's the first time he's ever heard his mom say the word _fucking._ It brings a little lick of shame to him, that his mum felt she needed to curse for his benefit.

"Aren't you just as upset?" he asks petulantly again, "She and my best mate, they just—"

"I'm not mad at her in the slightest. I gave her my blessing." She's stroking his back now, and she's treating him like a child and he doesn't even care, he needs it, the mothering, and the love.

"Why?" Robin scowls and lays his head in his hands. "It's _David_ after all, someone she probably wanted, who wanted her for years, and—"

"No, not true," his mum sighs. "She never had eyes for anyone but you, you know that. Just like you and Marian, she—"

"Don't!" he warns, but it's too late. The tears fall. "I don't want that, it's not the same, I loved Regina so much more, the thought of her loving David the way I love her, I just—"

"I'm sorry." She offers a gentle smile, "I don't wish to make you upset. You're here, and I'm so glad. You're my son, my whole world. I'm so sorry for what has happened, but please know no one ever stopped loving you. The pain in that girl's eyes when she talks about you is just as acute, just as sharp as it was the day you died. I don't want to go into details of what happened when we heard you were gone, it was awful for everyone, but mostly for Regina. She lost _her_ whole world when she lost you. It's easy for me to understand all this, Robin, because I was there to see it. But I won't begrudge you for being upset for now, and I'll be by your side, always."

He nods, and then asks, "How did it happen? How did they get together?"

"Well…" She sighs and pats his knee. "I don't know _all_ the details. I know Regina was in rough shape when we heard you passed. And she had that high risk pregnancy to worry about, and Henry… she needed help, I don't think you want to know just how _much_ she needed help but… well, I suppose I was somewhat responsible."

"You?" he asks, "You set them up?"

"No, nothing like that. She was drowning after you died. I didn't want to leave her, but I had to get back to work, back to Roger, I couldn't stay with her forever, you know. So I called Mallory and David, and begged them to keep an eye on her, you know, because I was so worried. Mallory tried but she took a job in Dover… she was just so far. And David was right there, his own heart broken…"

She shrugs and sighs deeply.

"He started coming over to see her all the time to help with the children. And then one day she drove all the way to Connecticut with the children for an impromptu visit. She looked, well, horrible. The second Henry went down to sleep she told me David had kissed her, and she kissed him back. Never saw someone more wracked with pain of all different types. Guilt, regret, grief, anger… so much self-loathing. She wanted me to punish her, I think. Some residual pain left over from her awful witch of a mother."

"When did this all happen?" Robin asks, words in his scratching his throat as he utters them.

"Oh let's see… well, she came over to my house to tell me about the kiss around July… after the Fourth of July, I remember that."

He swallows heavily. "Of… of what year?"

"Last year. They took it slow after that. It's still rather new. I'm surprised she didn't tell you that."

Oh.

He had been picturing them together months after his funeral, or frankly, igniting that spark _at_ his funeral but it seems it took over three years for this relationship to blossom and that's… well it feels a bit less like a betrayal.

"I didn't really give her much of a chance to tell me details," he admits. "I sort of kicked her out of here."

"I see," Rose looks away from him for a moment - only a moment, and he feels her disappointment radiating off of her. Shit.

"Honey, you've been through so much, I can't imagine how traumatic it's been. No one can blame you for being upset. You should be upset. Those arseholes took you away from us, it was horrible, they took you away from your life. And they made us think we needed to find a way to live without you. And that's what I urged Regina to do, so if you are mad at her, be mad at me too. I wanted Regina to be happy, darling. It was so hard seeing her in pain every day. It'd be so noticeable the second Henry was out of eyesight. So David was watching over her, and he loves you too… it seemed a very fitting pairing."

And everything she's saying makes sense, but it doesn't stop the pain, does it?

"I'm still upset at her."

Rose nods, and sighs.

"Be as angry as you like, burn bright with as much hot anger as you can muster, get it out of your system and then cool down and let all that negative energy go. She's the mother of your sons, and she's going to be in your life a lot over the next… well, forever. And she's done nothing wrong. So be angry, but get over it. And don't tell me I can't spend time with her, because that girl is still my daughter. She'll always be."

He itches to yell at his mum, to tell her she has no right to continue to speak to the woman who broke his heart, but there's nothing to say, Rose is a strong woman like his wife (is she still his wife?). She will do as she likes.

"I'm angry at her. But I love her." He says slowly, "I never stopped."

"She didn't either," his mum assures. "Now eat some of this food, I can't stand to see you all skin and bones."

.::.

It's well past three when she makes it back to Philadelphia, a delay coming from the mountains of traffic that always seem to exist at any time of day between Washington and her home, and another delay coming from the fact she asked the car to stop twice— not truly to use the restroom but to try to settle, breathe in fresh air, to keep herself from giving into the combination of nerves and carsickness and vomiting all over the sedan that is shuttling her home.

David sends her encouraging texts, he's not demanding any update, or asking for her time. He's just assuring her that the boys are fine, hunkered down with hot cocoa and s'mores for breakfast and an impromptu movie marathon.

 _Nothing past the first Harry Potter for Roland_ she warns, and David texts her back a message not to worry, that he knows what movies Roland is allowed to watch.

He does. He knows everything. He knows that _The Jungle Book_ is Roland's favorite movie, that Henry prefers _The Sandlot._ He knows that even a mild reference to vampires will put Roland on edge, but no monsters seem to scare Henry, and he knows that chocolate milk or hot cocoa is a cure-all for bad dreams for both children.

He knows everything about her children, because he's spent the last five years caring for them and loving them.

He keeps steady assurances that the boys are safe and protected.

 _Henry wants to talk to his friends online, but I told him it's a family morning. He hasn't heard anything yet._

Thank god.

David may not be a perfect man but he's been her rock, her lifeline.

And David would never hurt her. And she isn't going to hurt him, either.

She pulls into the driveway determined to be a good partner to him, the way he has always been to her.

There are no reporters here, and well, it may take them a while to find this place. She is still listed as living in the same home she shared with Robin, once upon a time. That home _should_ be for sale (she was supposed to put it up for sale months ago, but she never could give it up) but it's still in the same condition as she left it six month ago, waiting and ready for Robin to return.

And now he has, so she supposes her procrastination really paid off.

The moment she sets foot in the house she feels less nervous. The boys are all watching _Lemony Snicket,_ Roland is on David's lap, snuggling into him, and Henry is sprawled out on the floor. He even appears to be doing _homework_.

The sound of the door shutting jars them, and Roland is the first to greet her.

"Mom! Uncle David let us take a snow day even though there's no snow!" Roland exclaims. He's still in his pajamas, bright eyed and excited.

"I know!" Regina says, "We decided it would be fun to have a day off school and work."

"But where were you?" Roland asks, "Why didn't you spend your not snow day with us?"

"I had to take a trip," she sighs. "Someone important needed my help. But we will talk about that later. I'm going to change into my pajamas and join you boys."

She walks up the stairs after shooting David a very pointed look. He follows her, and they silently and nervously walk towards the privacy of their bedroom.

It feels… uncomfortable, being in this room with him now. The guilt of being with a man that isn't Robin even still rises to the surface to eat at her — even when she thought Robin was dead. And now it is back in full force, consuming her. She turns her head from the bed and tries not to think like this. Because it's not fair. She did nothing wrong.

David shuts the door behind him and just looks at her questionly. He's always so perfect, always knows what to do or say in any situation. And she's sure his mind is reeling, but he's waiting for her to speak.

"It's really him. He's alive." she whispers.

David nods. "I've been checking my phone, it's on the news. They are apparently doing some sort of press conference soon. How is he?"

"Good," she lies, "I mean he looks well, he doesn't have anything too scary or permanent from the…" she tastes bile on her throat, " _torture,_ so that's a good thing."

David walks towards her a bit, not touching, still giving her space, but the proximity feels comforting nonetheless. "Will he be coming to see the kids? Should we tell them?"

"I… we didn't discuss it. But mom…" she winces and corrects herself, because this is the way it must be now, " _Rose,_ Rose will be updating me. She's taking care of him. He didn't want to talk to me much after I told him… he's upset about us."

"Of course he was," David breathes, sitting down on his bed. "I'm sure he won't want to see me anytime soon."

"Not right away, no," she agrees. "I'm not sure when, or what I can do to—"

"Are we okay?" David asks then. It's out of character for him to sound so needy, to interrupt, but she sees the worry in his eyes.

"Us? Of course," she says dumbly. "Why would you—?"

"Because I know how much you love him. And I'm not an idiot. I know I never took his place in your heart. So just tell me now. Are you leaving me?"

"No," she says firmly. She should reach for him, should offer him the comfort of her touch, but she really doesn't want to. It feels so wrong, this is all wrong but she won't leave him.

It's not like she'd end up with Robin. Not after how he acted today.

"I love him, but he's not the same person anymore. He's changed, I've changed." She thinks of how angry Robin was at her, the words he said, the hatred in his eyes as he told her she could no longer consider his family as her own. Things _her_ Robin would never say, no matter what.

Things are different. Not that she blames him. Five years of torture is going to do that to even the kindest soul.

"Has he? What did he say to you?" David asks, worried about her.

"Nothing I couldn't handle. He's just... it's hard to explain. He's different. I don't belong to him anymore." The words feel wrong to say, but she's not sure how to accurately describe how it felt to be with Robin after so many years. But it doesn't matter, because when David hears them, he doesn't ask any more of her. Instead he stands up and pulls her into a hug.

She freezes for a second, only a second, and then she comes to her senses, ignores the screaming voice that tells her to _stop touching that man_ and hugs her fiancé back.

But when he dips down to kiss her lips, she cranes her neck to avoid it on instinct, pulling back.

"David, I… it's been a really long day, and this has been—"

"Of course," he says, "sorry, I just… I thought you said we were okay, and —"

" _We_ are _,"_ she insists, "but _I'm_ not okay. It's been a long, confusing day and it's only going to get worse, I just need... time. And maybe some space?"

"Of course," David agrees, taking a step back.

Her phone buzzes just then, and when she sees the number in the caller ID she grimaces, then answers it.

"How is he?" she asks.

"Hurt. Angry. Exhausted." Rose reports. "How are _you,_ darling? I heard he was quite harsh with you."

"It was nothing," she lies, "I'm... I'm just glad he's here. Even if he hates me—"

"He doesn't hate you." Rose says. "Quite the opposite. Love can make us behave in ugly ways sometimes."

"Is he, um, ready to see the boys?"

"Well they are keeping him here a bit longer. He has to keep telling the story over and over again. It's an interesting one, he did tell me that you didn't get to hear it, but you will want to. I'm sure most of the details will come out soon on the news. I believe we will be spending the night in Washington, then I'll take him home tomorrow. To his house, right?"

"Yes… it's still furnished and everything. I thought it would help for the sale… whenever I got around to the staging. I just need to put sheets on the bed and…" She trails off, thinking about the list of things she must do to prepare for Robin's return. "Shit, Rose, I haven't told the children yet. I didn't want to get their hopes up if he wasn't fit to see them, didn't know exactly what to prepare them for... I don't think I can find the solution in any parenting book."

"No, I don't suppose there's a written guideline for how to handle this situation," Rose agrees. "We will just have to invent our own way to get through it. But I would tell them soon, before someone else does."

"What do I even say?" she asks.

"The truth, just tell them their father is very much alive. And take every question they have bit by bit. Just be honest, sweetheart. You're so strong, you can do this."

"I wish you were here to help me," she mutters. David's walking out of the room now, giving her privacy, so she doesn't feel bad admitting she wishes for someone else's help. It doesn't feel right for David to be too involved in this.

"I'll be there in spirit," she assures. "And I'm here if you have any questions, I'm here for you both, you know. I love you and the boys very much. You know that, don't you?"

She manages to croak out a weak _Yes_ before Rose adds, "Well good, I'm glad. So you can stop calling me Rose. I'm always going to be your mom, understand?"

Rose always has this way of knowing just what Regina feels, of saying what she needs to hear. But now it's reduced her to tears, because she can't have her in _this_ way anymore.

"Robin doesn't like that." It kills her because he once _loved_ how close they were and now he wants to dissolve what has become a close family.

"He likes it just fine my dear. Ignore all the bad things he said. That's not him. That's the pain talking."

She swallows down the words of protest on her lips, because she's seen Robin in pain before and he has never acted the way he did just then. So she tells Rose goodbye, and promises to call her later to tell her how it went with the kids.

And then she throws on pajamas and pads slowly back to the living room.

.::.

It's not an easy conversation, but it's not as difficult as she imagined.

Roland seems to accept his father's return quite easily. He's young and believes in fairy tales and magical wishes and happily-ever-afters. His father's return is just like a fairytale, and it excites him. It's a brand new adventure he _wants_ to take part in.

Henry of course, is quite different. He's nine years old, and he has heard things about his father's death. So he has questions.

About who was killed instead of his dad.

About what happened to him over these last few years.

About whether Robin still loves them.

It's hard, answering those questions, and then not hard at all. She decides to treat him as she would an adult, since Henry hates being treated as a "baby" these days. She explains what she can, what she had heard from the military while she was waiting for Robin to arrive. She tells Henry his father switched badges with another man, so they thought he had died years ago. She tells him the execution that he's heard so much about was never his father. It was some man with a black canvas bag on his head, but not his father.

Henry worries about the man who _did_ die, asks if that man had a family, had a son like him. Her heart aches for her thoughtful, sweet son.

"When can we see him?" Henry asks. "Why isn't he here?"

"He needs to talk to very important people about what he saw when he was a prisoner," Regina explains, "so they can learn about the bad guys and how to stop them. But as soon as he finishes that he is coming home."

"Will he live with us?" Henry asks.

Regina cringes.

"I think he would like to live in our old house, but I'm not sure yet," Regina answers honestly.

"But wherever he lives we will be with him?" His head is cocked to the side, looking at her with suspicion.

"I am with David now," Regina says, trying to be honest. "So your dad and I can't live together, but I will always try to make sure you see plenty of him."

"So it will be like you got a divorce?" Henry asks, "You won't live together?"

Her instinct is to say no, it's nothing like a divorce, she'd rather pull all her teeth out than divorce that man.

But in reality he died, and when he was declared dead that ended their marriage… the same as a divorce.

"I suppose we will live the way your friends live who have divorced parents," she gives. "We will live apart but we will still be a family."

"Do you still love dad?" Henry asks. And he knows she does, she's very open about how much she loves him — or was when they thought he had passed.

"Of course I do," she assures. "Very much."

"Lucas told me that his mom said she got a divorce because she didn't love his dad anymore," Henry explains.

"Well, we aren't Lucas's family and I didn't divorce your father. I love him, but we had to spend a lot of time apart from one another and things change over time. So we won't live together, but that doesn't mean we don't love one another."

"So dad still loves you?"

Shit. She shouldn't really speak for him, but she knows the answer, doesn't she? Rose was right. He loves her. He's angry at her, disappointed, and he might not have the same love he once did, but he loves her, in his way.

"That's a question you'd have to ask your dad," Regina says, suddenly too afraid to answer for him. "Now I was thinking maybe we could make something for your daddy. Like a 'welcome home' sign, or some pictures, or—"

"I could paint him a picture!" Roland pipes up, "I could paint him _lots_ of pictures!"

She looks at Henry, who looks more thoughtful as he nods.

.::.

Regina leaves the kids to their artwork under David's care and runs out to the grocery store. For the first time in five years she's buying food for her husband. And sure, she covers the essentials, milk and eggs, flour, sugar, a few spices he could use for cooking, coffee and tea and cream… but then she starts reminiscing, thinking of the foods he _loves,_ and she starts filling the cart. It's off-season, but she still finds some fresh pineapple and mangos, and there's perfect red grapes there. And then she's walking down the aisles on instinct, grabbing a tub of Fudge Ripple ice cream, Nutella, a big box of Trix, his favorite lunch meats and cheddar cheese, the potato chips he's always liked, and the ingredients to make him that banana bread he could never stop eating.

This is silly. His taste could have changed an awful lot in nearly five years. He might not even like this stuff anymore.

She picks up a bag of Skittles and peanut butter Snickers anyway.

It's the thought that counts, and if he won't listen to her, if she can't tell him how much he means to her and make him believe it, at least she can do him a few favors to convey how much he matters.

She pulls into the driveway of her old house to find a few reporters waiting. Shit. She tells them to stay off her property (they do, they stay on the sidewalk) and she ignores the questions about how her husband is, how he survived for so long, if she still loves him (what a terrible question). It's bad, but not as awful as she'd have expected.

When she sets foot inside, she's hit with the realization that this home needs more than groceries. Robin is expected to meet them here the next morning, and she wants to tidy it for him, throw on clean sheets, take some of his old clothes from storage (she's donated a few items to charities, but there's still some items she couldn't throw out, so she packed them away, hoping they would always smell like him, and that one day she could pass them on to Roland and Henry).

She has work to do.

So she picks up the phone and takes a deep breath and calls David.

"Hey," she breathes, "how are you?"

Davis chuckles nervously. "I'm doing about as well as can be expected. How's it going over there?"

"Okay…" she says, and then, "Actually I think this place could use a lot of work. I have to call the cable company to get everything turned on, and I got the water back on, but… it needs to be dusted and I want to arrange some furniture back in the way he remembers it…"

"Want me to come over and help?" David asks, "The boys are just about finished with their drawing. Henry wants you to help with his sign, though."

"I…. I think this is something I should do myself." She grimaces. "Reporters are outside and they will find out we are engaged sooner or later, but for now it doesn't seem to be in the news, and I'd like to keep it that way. And I know Robin and what he will want, and—"

"I understand," Davis says quickly. She hears the slight disappointment in his voice before he covers it up entirely. "So what were you thinking?"

"Well…" She has to shut her eyes right as she makes her request. "I was thinking since Robin is going to be here rather early tomorrow, the boys and I could sleep over and… get ready. The cable is out but we could watch some movies, order a pizza, and decorate… or do whatever, we could..."

"Oh. Sure." She thinks he hesitates but then he adds, "Regina, whatever you need, don't be afraid to ask. I'm here to support you."

He's so wonderful.

She tries not to think about the fact that this arrangement gives her comfort, because now she won't have to lie next to David while thinking about Robin, about the pain in his eyes and the pain he must have endured while she was safe and warm and in the arms of someone else.

.::.

The reporters are still outside the home. But she drives right into the garage and tells the boys not to look out the window.

All the boys' bedroom furniture has been moved into David's home, so she's proposed a sleepover, downstairs in the living room. They can use the fireplace, order pizza, make hot chocolate and continue their movie marathon until they go to bed.

Roland falls asleep first, barely able to finish his pizza before he is yawning and snuggling into his sleeping bag.

Henry stays up, working on his sign. He picked out a large section of banner paper, explaining he wanted the sign to stretch out so all three of them could hold it. Regina isn't sure she should be involved in welcoming him, but she can't easily explain to her son why his dad may not want her there. So she traces the letters that say _Welcome Home Daddy_ and helps Henry as he colors each letter in, adding some intricate design to each one.

He pokes his tongue out as he draws, the tip peering out from pearly white teeth as he cranes his neck at angle to make sure his work looks right.

It's a very _Robin_ look, something he picked up during their four years together. She loves discovering moments like that, when he mimics a move his father did, reminding her that though their time was brief, Robin made an impression on Henry.

Some might claim these looks, these actions are nature not nurture, but Henry isn't biologically related to either of them, and yet these little moments still happen. She's forever grateful for them.

Henry works until he passes out, and then Regina covers him with a blanket, puts the last of his stickers, stencils and markers away, turns off the television, and crawls onto the couch to sleep.

A fruitless effort.

Since Robin has been gone there have been days where something would remind her of him, just a whiff of his aftershave in a crowded mall, stumbling across an old movie he loved, or seeing steak au poivre on a menu, and then the pain is so strong, her wounds are ripped wide open, and she's hemorrhaging all over again, missing him so badly she doesn't know how she will pull herself out of the whirlpool of grief, can't sleep without trying to fool herself into feeling his arms around her.

This is one of those nights. Even though he's safe and two hours away. Even though she will see him the next morning.

She _misses_ him _,_ her chests aches with emptiness. She feels cold and lost without him by her side. And he's not going to be _by her side_ in that way anymore, and even though he's back, she's not quite sure he's the Robin she remembers.

So he may be alive and breathing, but she's still mourning the loss of the man, the relationship she once knew.


	4. Chapter 4

As awful as everything is, he's excited and _thrilled_ to finally be going home to see his children.

He's spent hours being... interrogated, for lack of a better word. It seems prisoners aren't kept for as long as he was, not usually, not at all. Especially prisoners who aren't being used for any sort of ransom. Not unless they are helping the enemy in some way.

They had _meant_ to hold Chuck as ransom, he thinks, but Robin bears some resemblance to him, and his face was badly cut and bloodied from the bomb that went off nearby. And then there was the fact that Robin switched badges with him, thinking they would torture the high-profile celebrity and leave the nameless one alone to heal.

But the terrorists had gone another way. They hauled off Chuck to execute him on a live webcam, thinking he was just some IT guy named Robin Locksley.

It didn't take them long to realize their mistake, but the United States either never found out or never cared. News of Robin's death was all over the country, as the men who captured him made sure to note.

They tried to continue the charade, to pretend Robin was Chuck. They tried to sell him off, to trade him for some of their own who were imprisoned overseas, but apparently the United States really doesn't negotiate with terrorists, because there was no response to their demand, except for the United States declaring that Chuck had also died in an explosion.

So that was it, the country Robin had given most of his adult life to had abandoned him, and there was no word from the U.K. about anything either.

He was completely useless to the terrorists, being only a reporter's right hand man. All he knew was how to work a camera and how to set up a network.

They tried to get secrets out of him, to get him to give up whatever he could about the American military or the British military… but, the efforts were fruitless. Not because he could withstand torture — he would have cracked, he's sure. But he had no information on the war, no classified documents hidden anywhere.

And it seems they knew it.

He was just wasted space.

Except one day, when one of the guards was having trouble with his satellite cell phone, and Robin offered his services in fixing it.

Later, guards directed him to try to fix the shoddy network connection they had underground.

It took work, but Robin is handy, and he's always been a bit creative. So he was able to fashion a stronger connection, helped them set up a live feed video, repaired any gadget that seemed to be broken.

He expected to be executed every day, but he kept being spared. And he realized he was only alive because he had become the terrorist's new IT guy.

He can set up a live feed video for them, repair broken satellite phones, set up their internet network, "MacGyver" them new toys when their old ones broke, and he'd become valuable because of it.

He had most likely been committing treason, helping them like this, but in those moments he didn't much care about any of that. America abandoned him. He had no loyalties to them or his country of birth anymore, though he won't tell that to the United States as he interrogated about his years abroad.

He admits to knowing that the news had reported that both he and Chuck had been killed. Admitted to knowing it because one of the guards, Samir, showed it to him on television more times than he can count.

 _"_ _Look what your country does," he'd sneer, "they declare you dead before you even are, they don't care that we will torture and kill you slowly_."

A general says something to Robin about misinformation and flawed intelligence being the culprit for that mistaken report, and Robin just nods, and pretends to believe them. But he knows they let him sit and rot.

Robin is in decent shape for a man who withstood so many years in a cell, so they keep questioning him.

He admits he was taken places that he slept in homes with running water at times, that he was asked to help with many things in many places, and he wasn't confined to a dark overheated cell _all_ the time.

But he happened to be in one of those cells during that raid, when Ahmad had thrown him in there for being unable to restore a busted generator. Robin was told to think about it, to come up with a solution before they decided there was no reason to keep him alive (a sentiment echoed more times than he likes to admit over the last five years).

And then there was gunfire and explosions, and men in military clothes with huge semiautomatic weapons pulling him from his cell with the other prisoners.

Those moments, those hours are so surreal, such an out of body experience he can still hardly believe it happened. And so he tells them as such, explains everything, over and over, until they tell him he can go home.

They may have more questions, of course, but he's welcome to get some sleep, and see his family in the morning.

Regina might not be his anymore, but those kids _are_ his. And he needs to hold Henry again (he's nine, not the nearly five year old he once knew) and to meet Roland.

He dreads seeing David, dreads seeing Regina in David's _arms,_ but the thought of being with his children is an absolute dream come true, and no replacement husbands could ever ruin this moment for him.

His mother is driving him back, and he realizes in the car that driving is something he is going to have to learn to do again. Everything moves so fast, cars whizz by and stop short, and it's a bit much for someone who spent a large portion of his day looking at a dirt wall or a bunch of cords.

"We haven't discussed where you are living," Rose says calmly as she drives. "Of course, Regina has offered for you to stay with her and David and the kids, but I'd suspect—"

"Fuck no," he grimaces. "I'm not staying in the guest room as David and my wife—"

"That's quite enough, I don't think I need to hear the end of that sentence," his mother interrupts. "There's your home, of course. Regina moved in with David over Labor Day, so it's empty. And still partially furnished."

Regina moved in with him just a few months ago, and it kills him. If only he had been found just a bit earlier, if only…

"And then of course you can stay with me and Roger," his mum continues, "I'd love to have you, but I do live a bit far from the kids. Roger's promised he's retiring for good at the end of the next year, and then we're going to move down to Philadelphia but for now Connecticut is home."

"I'll stay in my own house," he decides. "Close to the kids."

Rose smiles at that, nodding as if she agrees with his decision. "I can stay with you for a few weeks. I don't want you in that house all alone."

"Will said he's taking a week off and he's going to help me adjust," Robin says with a shrug. "You need to get back to your husband. I'll be fine."

"My husband can take care of himself. He'd be here, you know, if he could. He's in San Diego at a conference. He's very glad you're okay."

But Roger is the man who remarried his mum when Robin was an adult, when he already had a family of his own, and as nice as the man is and grateful as Robin is for the way he treats his mum, there's no close relationship there that begs a visit, so he just shakes his head. "I don't think I need many people checking in on me. Give me time to adjust."

"Of course," Rose sighs. "But _you_ give me some time to spend with you. I've missed you. Let me stay, just for a few weeks."

He relents, partially because he wants someone to spoil him, to coddle him a little, and who better than your mum?

After a few silent minutes they take that old familiar exit off the highway, go down the windy streets of his residential neighborhood. It's autumn still, not yet winter, so the trees that line the road are bright and colorful. Everything is so thick, so rich, and so _alive._

He missed this, so, so much. Missed seasons, missed the cold, missed the sights and smells of a world that changes, grows, blooms, dies and is reborn again.

When they turn down his street he cannot breathe.

And so he doesn't. He steps out of the car, unsure his feet are even touching the ground.

Reporters are there, and his mother is arguing with them, spitfire that she is. He ignores them, and walks towards that familiar front door. The home he's dreamt of for years.

There's a moment when he thinks he should knock, or ring the doorbell, but this is _his_ home, he's been told as much, so he doesn't. He just walks in.

It smells like home, and freshly baked banana bread. And for a second he just wants to pretend this whole mess never happened, that he's come from yet another work assignment and everything is right with the world.

But there, on the other side of that door, is the family he left, and the son he's never met.

There's a banner across the stairs that reads _Welcome Home Daddy._ There are stamps and colors and stickers littering every inch of free space. He'd pay it more proper attention, but his son is hurling himself towards him and he still can't breathe can't process that this grown boy is _Henry._

 _"_ DAD!" Henry screams, and god, he's so big now, it's tragic. His little Henry, who now nearly comes up to his chest, runs towards him and hugs him tightly. "I can't believe it's you!" he says into his chest.

"It's me," Robin says softly, "My Henry, you're so grown now. So tall."

"I missed you," Henry says, his voice wavering and breaking, "I'm sorry you got captured."

Robin chuckles despite himself, and says "Me too."

"I missed you every day you were gone. I missed you so much." Henry clings tightly to him, and Robin hugs back, whispering promises that he won't leave him this time, that he's glad to be a family again, that he loves him so very much.

After a few moments, Robin glances up at Regina and spots the boy he's only seen in pictures. A mop top of brown curls so reminiscent of his mother. He's trying to hide behind her, now, looking almost frightened.

Regina's hand is threading through his hair as she whispers something he can't quite catch.

"Roland," Robin says, his arms still full of Henry. "I've heard so much about you."

But Roland shrinks even further away, sticks his thumb in his mouth and tries to hide behind Regina's tiny body (she's so thin, was she always this thin?).

"Come on Ro, say hi!" Henry calls, pulling out of the hug. Robin catches the sight of Henry's face, sees his red eyes and wet cheeks, and feels another pang of guilt at the fact his sons have suffered because of him.

Robin walks towards him and bends down on a knee, so he's at eye level with him. The boy shies away, until Regina bends down and encourages him. "Roland, baby, this your father. Just like I told you. There's no need to be scared. Don't you recognize him from the videos?"

Roland still seems uncertain, but he loosens his grasp on Regina's jeans, and that's a good sign, Robin thinks.

"Hello Roland," Robin says with a smile. "I'm your daddy. I am so sorry I didn't get to meet you sooner."

Roland looks him over, until a small smile forms on his face. He reaches out, his hand rubbing over his face, and lips. "You talk just like you do in my video," he says, coyly. And then, "You sound silly. Just like in the video."

"Do I?" Robin asks, "What video is this?" He looks at Regina now, fully, for the first time, just wanting an answer to his question, but she's so fucking beautiful it knocks the wind out of him. She's in this chunky white sweater, and she's staring down at him all sweet and touched, tears forming around her face.

"Mom, let's watch the video together!" Henry suggests.

Regina laughs and shakes her head. "Henry, your dad doesn't want to see that, he's—"

"I'd very much like to see it," he insists, "I want to know what has my son thinking I am so silly."

"It's just this thing John helped me make." She waves it off, "It's nothing."

"It's funny!" Henry shouts. "Dad, we watch it _all the time."_

"Well I think I want to see the video my sons watch _all the time_ ," he replies, raising his eyebrow to Regina.

She doesn't want to play it, he can tell. And he wonders what exactly she's been having his sons watch so often.

"Oh dear, let him watch it. He should see what the kids have watched all these years." His mother speaks up from behind him, and it's only then that he remembers she is here. Right.

Rose and Regina exchange a _look,_ something he's not quite sure about but he thinks if his mother is familiar with the video it must not be insulting or upsetting to him.

"Okay. But I don't have the DVD," Regina says after a pause, "My phone's a bit small but if I could figure out how to get what's on the screen on the television…"

Robin chuckles, a swell of pride bursting inside him over the fact he's finally useful for something. "I think I can handle that."

It doesn't take long, he can airdrop the video right onto the smart TV.

He sits down on the couch in his old spot, as if by muscle memory. But Regina is in _her_ spot the one right next to his, and it feels so cozy, so natural that he forgets himself and wraps an arm around her.

She melts into his touch, lets him lead as she sighs and snuggles into him. It feels so good, so comfortable, that he forgets for a few precious seconds that he's angry at her, and that she doesn't belong to him.

He should have taken the spot next to his mum.

He gets up awkwardly, stands and mutters, "Sorry, I'm suddenly feeling a bit cramped. I'll sit on the floor."

She's so expressive, Regina is, and she looks positively gutted, as if he didn't just say a few soft words but threw acid in her face.

And he hates himself for feeling a bit of pride, a bit of relief, in the fact that denying her his touch can still hurt her like this.

Henry moves to the floor, leaves his place from next to his mother for a spot next to his dad. But Roland stays on the couch, shifts down and snuggles into Regina. And something ugly rises inside Robin for wishing, in this moment, she didn't even have Roland to comfort her.

She's the one who left, after all.

 _"_ _Robin, stop that! Stop!"_

He's interrupted by the screeching of a much younger Regina on the television.

She's in the backyard of that little house she, Mal and Gwen rented when they were young, just-out-of-college working professionals. It's Fourth of July, and she's trying to set up for their annual party, but Robin keeps spraying her with a hose.

 _"_ _Robin! Stop it, I'm going to be soaked."_

She's wearing a white tee shirt, a bright blue bikini underneath, and cutoff shorts. When he sprays her and her shirt becomes see through, Robin's mouth goes dry. God in heaven, Regina looked beautiful then.

Only looks more beautiful now, but she was so innocent, so pure then. And she loved him, fuck, he was so lucky.

 _"_ _Just the way I like you!" calls Robin._

He turns back to Regina (cannot help it) with a raised eyebrow. Because is making jokes about how wet he likes her really appropriate in front of the children? And his _mother?_

But he doesn't catch her eyes, she's transfixed. Roland too. And Henry. His mum gives him a knowing look, partially amused for some reason before looking back on the screen.

This video, he realizes, is a bit of a ritual.

The camera jumps to a smug, young looking Robin holding a hose with a spray gun at the end.

 _"_ _What are you looking at? Do you want some of this?"_

And then he's spraying the camera person, laughing and joking as he chases her with the water.

There are several other scenes from that day, just short cuts of Robin chatting with Regina, or playing Frisbee with John, jump shots of him throwing down his beer to dance with Regina when a particular song came out of the speakers of the boom box.

The next shot is a short video of Will and John and Robin, drinking and laughing while watching a game.

And then there's a Christmas, where he kisses Regina under mistletoe and makes some sort of convoluted toast at his mother's house.

He catches Henry mouthing each word.

They must play this video. A lot.

Things turn awkward when it shifts to their wedding. It starts with fun shots of Robin with his groomsmen, heckling one another about their favorite football team, laughing about how Robin insisted on having pigs in a blanket for the cocktail hour.

 _"_ _They are delicious!" he insists. "I don't know why anything else is even on the menu!"_

Robin chuckles at his former self, turns slightly to catch Regina smiling herself. Her eyes are bleary, but focused on the screen.

It's not their _entire_ wedding video — that would be too boring for the boys. But there are choice moments, all featuring Robin. It's all rather fun until he sees them in front of the altar, and shit, their vows.

 _"_ _Robin, before you I didn't believe there was a future for myself where I would ever be happy. And then I met you, and I felt this strong connection I can't quite explain. It only grew the more time I spent with you. You are, and I say this without any hesitation, the perfect person for me."_

"Can we fast forward this?" Regina asks, her voice shaking, "This— it always bores the kids."

He's mad at her, but his heart aches at the pain in her voice. Truly he doesn't want to watch this either. It reminds him of a time when they could not spend more than two days away from one another and _god fucking damn it_ he took a job that would have separated them for three months. What in the hell was he thinking? It was good money with good people who could get him into better jobs, it was challenging work, but fuck, the man he's looking at in this video would have smacked him for thinking of leaving Regina for that much time — let alone a _pregnant_ Regina.

"This part makes momma cry," Roland says matter-of-factly. "Sometimes we skip it."

"But I like the part when Daddy says he can't wait to have kids," Henry argues, "because that's us!"

"But then they kiss," Roland reminds him, "and that's icky!"

Robin manages to fast forward from the rest of the scene, but not before he hears a young Regina tell him _I don't regret one second of my life, or any decision I ever made, because it brought me to you._ That always moved him, and this time is no different.

He's glad he's not sitting next to her, because he wouldn't be able to resist holding her at this moment. Especially when he hears her quiet sniffle. His mother is there, though, to reach her hand to Regina's knee and give it a comforting pat.

He fast forwards past the whole wedding part of the video just to be safe. It's a little jolt of nostalgia-laced pain, seeing her in that beautiful dress, looking at him like she found her home.

She doesn't look at him that way anymore. Oh god, does she look at David like that now? Is she going to use those eyes, that expression she saved just for Robin on fucking David Nolan?

But after the wedding there's the New Year's Eve party on Mallory's rooftop. And that's a bit lighter. It's just a few seconds of them laughing, singing _Baby I Need Your Loving,_ and later toasting (and drinking of course).

His heart skips a beat at the next video.

 _"_ _This is Henry."_

Regina is holding their infant in her arms. He remembers this day. Roger was filming, his mother was being introduced to her new grandson.

 _"_ _Oh he is absolutely precious. Pure pleasure, that's what I'm going to call you."_

 _Rose is over the moon, so emotional she's reduced to tears. Robin pulls her in for a hug._

 _"_ _You guys did it, I knew you would, I knew there was the perfect child for you out there."_

" _You were right. The wait was worth it. He's perfect."_

 _"_ _Made for you," Rose insists. "Look at your darling wife, she's a natural mother."_

 _Robin chuckles lightly. "Was there ever any doubt?"_

 _He takes Henry from Regina's arms, kissing her forehead before he kisses Henry's._

He was a new father, a bit uncertain then. The way he held him was a bit clumsy. He wasn't as natural as Regina, but it wasn't all that bad.

 _"_ _God, I love him." His eyes never leave the baby in his arms. "It's amazing how much already. Right away."_

Henry is beside him, leaning against him, giving him a little hug. "This was my adoption day," he whispers.

"August seventeenth," Robin says with a smile. "Two days after your birthday."

"Yeah!" Henry smiles broadly, "You remember!"

"Of course I do," Robin responds, "I could never forget it."

There's quite a bit of Robin with Henry after that, and an obvious lack of Regina and him. This video was probably made for the children, so it's fitting. Robin is teaching a three year old Henry a bit of football, and then throwing a baseball around with him, and then there's Henry's fourth birthday, where Robin sings _Happy Birthday_ while Regina records. With all these moments of Henry, Robin starts to feel guilty, because poor Roland never had a second with him.

He should have been there to teach Roland how to throw, how to catch, how to dribble, how to trap a ball and how to shoot a proper goal. He cringes thinking of David teaching him — the man would call it _soccer_ , for fucks sake.

But then Regina returns to the screen, wearing that black dress with the red blazer and knee high boots — god she looks sexy as all get out. But he knows this day, and knows it well.

He remembers how she hid their little camera behind him to record his reaction, to preserve this happy moment forever.

 _"_ _What did the doctor say?" Robin asks nervously as she leads him into the kitchen, "Is it a stomach bug, or… allergies maybe?"_

 _"_ _Nothing like that," she whispers. "They found out what it is, but it's not those things."_

 _"_ _Oh…." Robin sinks down to the kitchen stool and frowns. "Well… is it serious?" Robin asks._

 _Regina nods._

 _"_ _It's quite serious. And it will be a long time until I feel normal again. If I'm lucky, that is." She's smiling, but there are tears in her eyes._

He's an idiot for not realizing where she was going with this sooner.

 _"_ _Whatever it is, we'll get through it," Robin insists._

 _She smiles and reaches into her purse. "I have the paperwork here, along with some treatment…"_

 _Regina pulls out an ultrasound instead, and her smile widens._

 _"_ _Really?" Robin asks, after having a moment of silence, "Really? My god, how? I thought…?"_

 _"_ I was inside of mommy's belly," Roland announces, "But you can't see me because I'm too little."

 _"_ _A miracle baby," Regina says shyly. "I don't want to celebrate too soon. It's only eight weeks… and there's a risk, a high one, but, yes, for now… we have a baby. If it sticks."_

 _"_ _Oh it'll stick," Robin insists, "Oh darling, I can't believe how lucky we are."_

 _Robin touches her belly, rubs the nonexistent bump with a tenderness. And then, "Shit, get out of those heels, my god, be careful!"_

 _Regina laughs, shaking her head. "I'm only 8 weeks pregnant, Robin, there's no need to treat me any differently—"_

 _"_ _I'm going to spoil you senseless and you are going to let me."_

 _"_ _Robin…"_

 _"_ _That's my final decision."_

His blood rushes cold. In two months he'd be telling her he had to leave her while pregnant and wouldn't be back until her seventh month. So much for spoiling her, huh?

There are more clips after that, short ones of him and Henry, many of him acting silly while playing with his son, a few short moments with Regina, until that morning he leaves for his overseas assignment, when he and Henry take a series of pictures on their iPhone that are displayed on the screen like a collage.

The pictures of him and Regina are missing, all but one, where he's kissing her belly. He imagines those pictures were too bittersweet to include, but this one, this one was for Roland.

"That's it!" Roland shouts. "That's your video! Did you like it, daddy?"

"I do," he says, trying to bite down the sadness and guilt that threatens to rise up inside him. He turns to his mother and asks, "Who made this?"

"Well, Regina of course. And John helped with the editing. But it was all her idea."

He turns to Regina and musters a smile. "Thank you," he says softly, "for giving the kids these memories, I—"

"It's nothing," Regina waves off.

"It's not _nothing,_ " Rose insists. "The kids watch this for their birthdays every year, and most holidays, on father's day, and whenever they are missing you. It was a lot of work to compile decades of video like that especially when you are grieving, but she did it."

He is touched, truly, but at a loss for words. So he smiles at her in that way, and hopes he can communicate his gratefulness through a look. From the way she stares back at him, eyes glistening with tears, he thinks he succeeded.

"I wanna show you how good I am at soccer!" Henry shouts excitedly.

"Football," Regina and Robin correct quickly.

He smiles at her again. Another reason to be grateful.

"But no one calls it football in America," Henry groans, "Why do _I_ have to?"

"Because that's the correct word for what a sport played _with your feet_ should be called," Regina says, clearly on autopilot. "Plus…" she catches Robin's eye and finishes, "that's what your dad calls it."

"Your mother's right," Robin says, "Now let's go outside and play a bit of football, huh?"

"There are reporters out front," Regina warns, "they may call to us from the street but we are just going to ignore them, okay?"

They are lucky that their backyard is behind a six foot fence. The reporters may be lurking, but they aren't yelling at them or bothering them, and for that he's grateful.

They start with a bit of catch at Roland's insistence. Roland is left handed, Robin finds out. He's got a good throwing arm for a four year old, better than he would have thought. He hits some ground balls across the yard, watching the way little Roland fields them and tosses them back to Henry.

His heart aches he wasn't there to teach him to throw or catch, but he is glad that someone obviously taught them, and well. And from the way Regina catches and throws the ball back to them when a bad toss comes flying in her direction, Regina has learned an awful lot herself.

Football is next, after Regina makes some markings against the far side of the fence as the "goal area", but they end up passing and kicking the ball around more than anything.

"Dad! Watch my jump cut!" Henry awkwardly dribbles the ball on his foot, kicking it up. It's not fluid, but it works, seems rather advanced compared to other American children his age. His step-over is much more skilled, however, and he's got decent ball control while dribbling.

This isn't exactly the sport of choice for young boys in the States and he knows it, and he feels another tug at his heart strings and realizing Henry was probably encouraged to take on the sport his dad loved.

Robin is practically a stranger to them, he realizes this, but the boys haven't treated him as such. And it's likely because Regina has very much been keeping his memories alive. They know him, even though he's been gone for five years. And they love him.

Just when he's starting to get winded from play, Regina calls everyone inside for sandwiches and apple cider.

And as the boys start eating there and reliving their day of play, he catches Regina's eye, and walks towards her.

"Can we talk, just for a moment?"

His mother is watching the children, but side eyeing them with a hint of approval, nodding at the unspoken request that they take a moment.

 _.::._

Her heart is racing, as Robin is guiding her by the small of her back, leading her towards the study, and closing the door.

She can't read him anymore, and he's been all over the place today, looking at her with love and then shrinking away from her, looking at her when she's in pain with almost a victorious smirk…

But then he will counteract it by being so sweet to the kids. These few hours have been so emotionally draining, trying to be there for their children and ignore the aching of her heart. He looked _so good_ running around with them, and when he took off his sweater to play in the cool autumn breeze she was hit with just how attracted she still is to him, and reminded of those days when he'd spend the day with Henry, and just watching him be a good father would fill her with an unexplainable lust.

So his emotions may be all over the place, but hers are ping ponging in every direction too, and it's adding to the mental exhaustion she feels.

p

And if he yells at her now like she figures he might, she may very well break down into tears.

He closes the study door and leans against it with a sigh.

"Hey," he says quietly.

That's it then?

"Hi…" she says with some suspicion, eyes narrowing.

"I... uh, I'm glad you didn't sell the house. And I still have a place to stay."

She nods. "We only just moved out a few months ago, I didn't… I kept putting off the sale. Maybe part of me... it doesn't matter. I just didn't want to let it go."

"Thank you," he says, and it looks like he's trying to smile. Trying but failing.

"You don't have to thank me," she assures him, because she's the one who left him without a place to stay to begin with after all. He should hate her for that, she's _lucky_ he has a place at all.

"I do," he says sincerely, before sitting on the burgundy leather couch he's always loved. "That video was very nice, and I'm glad they see so much of me… I just, I'm glad to know you didn't entirely wipe me from their memories."

That strikes a nerve. It's the word _entirely_ that does it. _Entirely._ As if she had erased any part of their memories. As if a second of her life with him wasn't on constant repeat in the back of her head.

"Robin I've spent the last five years hanging by a _thread._ " She feels her nerves pick up, hair standing on end, every muscle in her body telling her it's time to fight. "And I've dedicated my life, my health, and my sanity to your _memory._ Do you think that video is easy for me to watch over and over? To see the love of my life in every stage of our relationship played over and over so the boys won't forget you? Trust me, it's been no picnic. Every time I think I'm finally healed, finally won't cry myself to sleep anymore, Henry asks to watch the video and I pick up on something different - something new I miss about you, something new that's gone, and it cuts just as deep. _Haven't entirely wiped you from memory?_ Fuck you, I've done everything so you are right here with us, despite how much it hurts! So please, let me know if you have any more questions on what has happened while you were gone before you start assuming things!"

She lets herself crumble unto the opposite end of the couch then, fuming, hurt, and defensive, and preparing her for whatever hurtful thing he will try next.

"Do they call him 'dad' too?" he asks.

It's not accusatory in tone, to be honest. Not full of anger, or venom. It's general curiosity. And it's the tone that pulls her out of the whirlpool of anger, if only temporarily. She looks at him, her eyebrows raised in a question. And then he ruins everything.

"David, I mean. Do they call David "dad" or "daddy"? I mean, Roland's never known anyone else as a father—"

"Roland has _always_ known you as his father." She wags a finger in his face, leaning towards him in a threatening way, as if she's daring him to challenge her. "From the moment he was born, he _always_ knew you were his father. Because I was there, shoving pictures, and _videos_ and stories in his face at every minute of the damn day. I did it so they would know you and love you. And it wasn't easy, Robin! But I did it for you. And them."

"Okay, okay," Robin says, hands in the air in mock surrender, "I get that. I really didn't mean to fight. I just... I wanted to know what David is to them."

"He's not their father." Regina bites back bitterly. She thinks of how Henry still calls him _Uncle,_ like he started to after Robin died, and never quite transitioned into just _David_ or anything else. He's going to have to drop the _Uncle_ one day. _Dad_ would be better than _Uncle_ wouldn't it? "Though I'm not sure why you wouldn't want them to have a man, a father figure in their life. For nearly five years we thought you were _dead,_ Robin. But no, we had no plans to have David adopt the children or call himself their dad. He's their mother's fiancé, and their good friend. That's all. "

"When is the date, then?" he asks. There's a little heat to his voice now, a bit of an accusation, "The wedding, I mean. When are you two…?"

Her stomach feels queasy. And why is it so damn hot in here?

"We didn't, um, we didn't actually set a date yet." Regina explains. "We only got engaged in July, and we thought, you know, a wedding seemed... Like more than we needed. We were just going to go to the courthouse but we were going to wait until after the holidays.

She doesn't need to tell him that the reason they don't want to do a wedding is they both remember her wedding to Robin, and neither want ruin the memory of her first wedding with a pathetic new one. She isn't going to tell him that the reason they haven't set a date is, as comfortable as she is living with David, sleeping next to him, sharing her finances and her meals with him, she' not sure she can exchange vows and promise to share the rest of her life with him.

He doesn't need to know any of that.

Robin, for his part, seems intrigued to find out there is no date. She watches his mouth open, his eyes narrow... and then he shuts his jaw, obviously thinking better of whatever he was about to say.

"Do we have to do anything? Divorce, or—" He is no longer looking at her, focusing, instead, on something out the window.

The word "divorce" hurts.

"No, our marriage, um, _dissolved_ when you were declared legally dead. So we aren't married anymore."

She fiddles with the wedding ring that's still on her right finger. Robin's ring. David's engagement ring is on a large chain that she wears on her neck, sometimes. She keeps meaning to take it off the chain and wear it but it feels heavy, somehow.

"We... we haven't talked about how this is all going to go moving forward. And we have to figure it out, don't we?"

Regina nods. "We do. The kids and I live less than ten minutes away. Splitting custody won't be a problem. Until you are ready to think about work again, you should spend time with them. Get to know Henry again. Get to know Roland for the first time. I'll accommodate. Of course."

Robin smiles, the mention of Roland obviously dragging him out of whatever mood he's in. "Roland. He stuck, huh? After all that, you guys made it, he—"

Oh boy. That was the wrong thing to say. White, hot flames of fury well up inside her at the reminder of what she went through those months that she was pregnant and alone.

"I almost lost him," she nearly snarls, anger from years back coming to the surface, "you _knew_ it was a complicated pregnancy, you _knew_ I wasn't supposed to go through that level of stress, and—"

"I know, Regina. Christ, I prayed and hoped and wished every day that you could forgive me, I really did. But we agreed, we—"

" _You_ agreed," and shit, she wasn't supposed to be angry at him for the past, but it still is so fresh in her mind, she's still livid. "You said it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, a chance to show off your talents. That all the major networks would want you if you could just do this… and then you told me it was your _dream_ and that we said we would never keep one another from our dreams. How was I supposed to argue with you after all that? You guilted me into letting you go and I hated you for it. And you promised me you'd come home to me, you promised! And then you left me all alone!" Regina spins around and covers her face in her hands. Her eyes and cheeks are wet with tears she hadn't even registered she was crying out, and it's only then she wonders if the last few choked out words she managed to squeak out between sobs actually were audible.

She hears Robin huffing out a breath of air, and uttering _You're right._ When she composes herself enough, wipes at her tears and takes a deep breath, she sees quite a different Robin. He's slouched forward, head tilted, eyes so expressive. He looks...miserable. Remorseful. "You need to know that not a day has gone by where I haven't worried about you and the baby, and regretted my decision to leave you. I did, I went through a lot in those five years, but thinking about what you were going through, what might have happened, that was unbearable. And I'm happy that you both are safe. Truly."

Her heart melts a bit at that, the anger coursing through her slows, and she takes a deep breath, nods, and tries to settle her blood pressure.

"Thank you for raising them for me." He says to her slowly, with a genuine reverence that touches her. "They are... I couldn't have asked for better children."

"I couldn't either," Regina says. The last rays of anger leave her, replaced with that bit of pride she always gets when she talks of her sons. "It wasn't just me raising them. They are just really good kids and we have really good friends and family. I struggled quite a bit."

"It doesn't show," he insists. The room feels tense, conversation too emotional, so she's grateful when he takes a big breath and changes the subject a bit. "So is anything different about this house that I need to know? Anything I need to buy whenever I… figure out money?"

Regina laughs, shakes her head. "The network provided us with some money when you were captured and more when you died… not sure if they are going to fight for that back, but Mal said it wasn't conditioned on your death so it should be fine. I'll give it to you. The life insurance, I _know_ they will want that back, but Mal said she knows someone who might be able to keep at least some of it for us."

He cringes. "Oh, god I'm sorry, I forgot—"

She waves it off. "Even if we have to give it all back, we'll be fine. I never touched any of the money I got when you died. It was going to go to Henry and Roland's college expenses, and the remainder when they graduated, but…"

He looks confused. "Never touched any of the money? How did you get by, how did you—?"

She shrugs. "I ate into our retirement, and the money daddy left me... I figured what was the point? Not like we were going to travel the world together, so…" She sighs, and adds, "Then I took a second job for a bit, last year — which was nice, it kept me busy. And then I got promoted at work and didn't need it anymore." And also, _David_ has helped. But Robin doesn't need to know that part.

"That money was there _for you_ ," he reminds her, as if he is trying to tamp down his frustration. "It's to make Roland and Henry's life better, and—"

She winces at that, feeling guilty because yes, she _should_ have used that money on them, but he doesn't understand.

"Everything I used it for, everything I bought, it would just remind me that you weren't here. And the thought of benefiting from it or making myself _comfortable_ on your death…" Fuck the tears better not come again, she's not going to make it through this day at this rate. "I had lots of people to help me. And that money was going to the kids. I wasn't denying them anything."

"I know," Robin assures, "I'm sure they didn't want for anything. But _you_ did."

Regina sighs, threads her fingers through her hair, and mutters. "I wanted lots of things. Lots of things money couldn't buy." It's out before she can second guess herself, and she catches the flicker of recognition in his eyes.

It feels inappropriate to acknowledge just how deeply she missed him, needed him, the whole time he was gone. Shouldn't she be happier with David than she is? It doesn't matter, she's with him. "Let me show you around, tell you what I think you might need."

She's left most of the furniture, but she loved that dining room table so she took that, swapped it with David's. And then she moved out the children's bedroom sets, so they will need brand new items. The sofas in the basement will also need to be replaced (Robin never liked it anyway). And really nothing else needs to be done.

Walking into their bedroom again is surreal. The room is exactly as he should remember it.

She hears him inhale and exhale heavily.

"So…" she begins, but he's already walking towards the bed, moaning when he lays down on top of the comforter with a sigh.

"I've dreamt about this bed since the moment I left it," he sighs, sinking into the spot in the bed that was left cold for years when he left.

She laughs and lays next to him, in the spot that was always hers ( _Inappropriate_ , a voice in her said says. _Shut up_ , another voice says, _it's not like your clothes are off_ ).

"I always loved this mattress," she admits with a sigh. The one they shopped for endlessly until they found the perfect match for both their bodies. It never felt quite the same to sleep on without him.

"Mm," he says, shutting his eyes.

He's going to fall asleep. He _should,_ he's had a very busy few days… years... and he needs to eat and sleep in excess for a bit.

"Do you want to take a nap?" she asks. "I have some sweats of yours, and a tee shirt you could change into, and…"

She walks towards his closet and opens the door, opening that center chest of drawers that she's stocked full of tee shirts she could never part with and sweatpants she loved to pull on during days she missed him.

She's trying to find the perfect thing for him to wear when she feels his hand on her shoulder.

"You kept my clothes?" he asks softly.

"Not _all_ of them," she says carefully still with her back to him, trying to remain calm, to not get sucked into another tearful conversation. "Just some suits I thought Henry may like to wear one day, if we could tailor them, and some tee shirts you wore so much we probably couldn't give them away, and—"

He spins her around to face him, drawing her chin up when she refuses to meet his eyes like the coward that she is.

"Don't," she says, not even sure what he's asking, but she definitely doesn't need an acknowledgement that she kept his clothes because she missed him. "This is hard enough, please don't—"

"I'm sorry for what I said yesterday." He looks in her eyes, before kissing her forehead. "I was hurt, I let my imagination get the best of me, and I just…" He sighs and shrugs. "I haven't been here. So it was easy for me to think you just forgot about me, and that I don't matter to me."

"Never," she assures, tilting so she can press a kiss into the hand sliding down her cheek.

"I know that now," he assures, swooping a hand through her hair. "And maybe in a few weeks I'll be able to say I'm happy for you and David and mean it. But for now, 'I'm sorry' will have to do."

"You never needed to apologize." He didn't, not really, but it's good to hear. She gathers her pride and voices her biggest fear. "I just don't want you to be angry at me anymore."

But Robin rushes to assure her with another gentle kiss to her brow. "I'm not. Not at you. Angry at myself for taking that job, at stupid Chuck for going past the safe zone, at the fucking men who kept me from you for years, at this entire fucked up situation, and I'll admit, though he might not deserve it, I'm mad at David Nolan. But you, I'm not mad at you. Could never be angry at you."

She nods and lets him wipe away her tears. Shit, she's a mess. She's cried more these past few days than she has since his funeral.

"Can I hug you?" He says in an overly polite way, and it stuns her that he even thinks he has to ask but he follows it up with, "I know you got carried away in the moment yesterday, but I don't know our new rules or boundaries, and—"

She wraps her arms around him and throws her head on his chest. "Hugs are always okay. Please hug me whenever you feel like it."

He chuckles into her hair. "I doubt that will leave you much time to breathe," he admits shyly.

Her heart soars. God she has missed him so, so much.

"I don't mind." She smiles against the warmth of his chest. "I'm still in shock over the fact that you are really here. I could use a constant physical reminder."

She looks up from his arms in time to see his lips curve into a smile. His mouth opens, and she blushes, recognizing that devilish look. He's about to tease her, probably make a sexual innuendo, which she really walked right into, didn't she?

"Oh Robin, not like that!" she laughs. He just wraps his arms around her tighter and hums.

"I know darling. Just couldn't help my mind from going there."

She can't either — not now. Especially remembering the way they fit together, against one another. And he's not wearing the same cologne or deodorant, but he still smells the same. That same sweet musky smell that is so distinct to Robin.

But there's David, she's with _David_ now, so she sighs and breaks the hug. There's pain in his eyes when she does but he musters a smile anyway.

.::.

He's very, very in love with his not-wife.

Ridiculously so.

Moreso since he's seen everything she's done, how she's dedicated these last years without him to his memory and their children.

He'd been told so many times in captivity that his family would quickly move on, that they didn't care about him, that he almost fell for it. But now he's here, evidence of how much she loves him all around, and he hates himself for doubting her for even a moment.

It's still a sharp pain, knowing that she found love with someone else. But it's without the punch to the gut that followed before, the worry that she never cared about him the way he once thought she did, the idea that she forgot him, that she no longer loved him.

She loves him. That's obvious.

Maybe not the way she once did, but she has not only been falling all over herself to make him comfortable, she's been seeking his affections.

She's reacted to every touch like she did when they were first dating.

And that's decidedly _not_ the way he'd react to Marian if she came back to life. He knows that, feels it in his bones.

So what she has with David must not be as strong as what they have with one another. And he doesn't know what that means but he can't help a little seed of hope blooming in his belly. He wants his wife back. His family back. And he's going to let himself think it's possible, if only just for now.

When she pulls out of his embrace it hurts a tad, but he sees the regret in her eyes and he _knows_ she isn't ready to leave him yet.

"Do you want me to draw you a bath, and then leave you to rest? You have to be exhausted." Regina asks.

His immediate thought is that he can draw his own bath, for goodness sake. He hasn't been rendered handicapped and he certainly hasn't forgotten how faucets work. But a look in her eyes tells him she _wants_ to do this, that this request is more for her than for him.

"Actually…" he sighs, "that sounds wonderful. I'm a little achy."

Her eyes light up and she musses his hair playfully.

"Go lay down, I'll wake you when it's ready." She gives him a squeeze of her hand and then gets to work in the bathroom.

The bath is warm, and she's filled it with something that smells woodsy, a bit musky and spicy. It's soothing and homey, has him truly relaxing for the first time since he can remember.

When he gets out of the bath he pads into his closet to find his clothes. There's a hoodie hanging up, odd, as most of his casual sweatshirts are folded and in the drawers.

But this one smells of Regina's perfume, and he knows she's worn it recently.

So he grabs his old threadbare _Spurs_ tee shirt, a pair of sweats, and throws the hoodie on over it. He loves the faint smell of her around him, it's comforting. Feels like home.

He means to rest on that bed for only a second, but the moment he hits the pillow, sleep overtakes him.

When he wakes up its pitch black outside and he worries he missed saying goodbye to his sons. He scurries downstairs a bit concerned, but he needn't be. Regina, his mother, and the kids are all there, playing _Trouble_ with plates of food all around.

"Good morning," His mum chirps looking up at him with a wink.

"Sorry," he mutters, sitting down. "That was a nice bath," he looks at Regina sheepishly. "Definitely relaxing. I could barely put my clothes on before passing out."

"You needed to sleep," Regina says, "I had hoped you'd get a nap in. We ordered pizza from your favorite place, if you wanted—"

"Bless you," he mutters, stalking towards the oven. It's being kept warm in there, just like Regina always does with pizza. And this is indeed favorite pizza from his favorite pizzeria. He is going to eat until his stomach cramps and protests.

Regina follows him into the kitchen. She's looks a bit nervous, a bit uncertain.

"I, uh, I was thinking I might get going in a bit," Regina says softly. "I... should probably go back to work tomorrow, and there are things to do."

"Absolutely, of course." Robin says with a smile. "I wish I had more time with the kids. That nap really ate up a lot of time."

"I was wondering about that. If you wanted, the children can stay over with you and mom— _your mom._ "

"Really?" he asks, to which she responds immediately _Of course_. He hadn't expected to get them for a full night on his first day back, he'd understand her still being worried about him being alone with young children after being so isolated for so long. But she seems to trust him, and there's their grandma to watch over things.

Still, it's rather generous. And in that spirit, you know what?

"Thank you — and Regina?"

"Hmm?" she asks, spinning back to face him.

"She's your mum too. I'm sorry I ever tried to pretend otherwise."

Regina's way of saying thank you is to wrap herself around him tightly, to whisper it while pressing her body into his, and he doesn't think he's ever appreciated a gesture more.

The rest of the evening goes well, despite having to watch Regina leave and remembering that she will sleep in another man's (David's, fucking David's) bed. The kids are happy, and affectionate to him, his mum gives them a slice of banana bread and hot chocolate, they introduce him to _Moana_ , and then he's tucking them and wishing them sweet dreams.

His mum is in the dining room, being careful not to wake the children sleeping in the next room. She looks… rather proud of herself.

"How are you feeling today?" she asks, "A bit better than yesterday?"

"A bit," he says, and when she rolls his eyes he corrects himself. "Okay. A lot. I didn't realize everything she'd done, I'm sorry I lashed out at her. I just hate the fact that I lost her."

"That girl loves you." Rose says, sipping her coffee as if it were plain as day. "I don't think you've lost _anything._ "

"She's with David now," Robin points out. "She's still with him. Just went back home to him."

Rose just scowls. "Please, that relationship was only ever a Band-Aid being placed on her bleeding heart. And I supported it, they needed one another for a time. And I needed you to respect it too, to respect her, so she didn't push you away. She's loyal to that man. He saved her life. Literally. But I saw the way she looked at you tonight. They won't last. So cheer up, and don't give up. She's not married yet."

As he says his goodnights, Robin feels a bit lighter.


	5. Chapter 5

They've made a lot of progress in the last two weeks, she and Robin. The first big step Robin made was to tell the reporters to back off. It was an impassioned plea to one of the paparazzi, asking him to respect Regina's privacy, that she had been a wonderful wife and is an amazing mother, that she kept his memory alive all these years for his children. Robin had mentioned that she went through something no one should have to, and she had every right to move on, that it's unfair to judge her or bother her for it. And then he told this reporter that their questions and articles have made it hard for him to reconnect with his family. The reporter published his statement, and a good many widows and widowers took his side, some happened to be quite famous. And the public turned against the coverage, so it's mostly died down. Still there, but Regina can now enjoy a meal in public and not expect not to be interrupted.

She loves Robin for always protecting her, even now.

With the press being less invasive, they have much more time to reconnect without interruption. He has to reintegrate, and that isn't always easy, but it's not as difficult as she would have anticipated. There are a few occasions he has fallen silent and squirm. She asks about the shift in mood, and he will confide in her that some random noise, or smell, or sound, triggered an awful memory. He's seeing a therapist, working through it. And working through it with Regina. It will take time, but she sees the improvement, and she knows he will recover from this. He confides in her, and she knows that is special, knows she can't take that for granted. So she spends more time with him, being there for every revelation, every quite talk about the past, or worries about the future. And it helps, god it seems to help. He is completely comfortable in his house, with her and their children.

And those children of his have taken to him right away. It's odd even with everything going on, with them it's like no time has passed at all. She feels that way, too, has moments where she feels they've spent no time apart. But then she will reach for him like she used to, grab his hand with both of hers and squeeze it tight with affection, or even just run her hands down his arms like she used to after a hug, and then he'll shoot her a curious look, and it all comes back. There should be no more of those moments, no more flirting the way they used to (because they even used to flirt as a married couple). She's going to marry another man, and he's going to be her _friend_ and her children's father _._ Nothing more.

But it doesn't always feel that way when she's around him.

He still hasn't seen David. She's waited for Robin to ask, and he hasn't brought the subject up, so they meet on neutral ground, at the house they used to share, without David around. And the kids haven't yet caught on to the fact that their uncle isn't there (or if they have, they haven't asked Regina about it). David's always been conveniently busy during these outings.

Speaking of David, he has been handling this well. The first night she spent with the boys at Robin's house, Killian had come over for beers and football. And then Mary Margaret has been an awfully sweet neighbor. She always has had a soft spot for both of them. Regina's come home to the smell of Mary Margaret's baked goods, or one of her casseroles, several times over the past two weeks, apparently baking for him while she keeps David company. And she's smiles when she sees Regina, hugging her tight and reminding her to call if she needs anything — anything at all. And the company has kept David in good spirits. Regina has relied on her and Killian more than she knew, for the support they've offered David.

Because god knows _she_ hasn't been so supportive of David. In fact, the first few nights of Robin's return, Regina found ways to avoid sleeping with him. Falling asleep on the couch, curling up around Roland while reading a bedtime story and sleeping there, and then, there was the day when she was sure she was coming down with something and retreated to the guest room. That was the day she saw the look in David's eyes, the recognition that he knew what she was doing.

So she forces herself to sleep next to him. Except she doesn't really sleep. She stresses, she worries, she's sad and lonely and neglecting him.

Things come to a head when Rose proposes a joint Thanksgiving dinner.

"Well I just want to see my whole family for my favorite holiday," Rose mopes. "And Robin's house is a perfect place for it, and well, don't the kids deserve Thanksgiving with their mom _and_ dad?"

"Doesn't David deserve Thanksgiving with his fiancé?" Regina counters, an eyebrow raised. She'd love to leave David and spend the holiday with Robin, and that makes her feel even _more_ guilty, he's soon the be her husband, and she shouldn't want to spend time with someone who is not him. Let alone an ex.

"Well of course, he'd be invited too."

Regina snorts. "Robin would never invite him."

"I've been living there for the last few weeks. I'm inviting him. And I've talked with Robin. He knows it's time he see David again. So why not on Thanksgiving, where there will be plenty of distractions, and he'll just get to say a quick hello to him, amidst all the food and American football?"

"I have to check with David," Regina says, "I'm not sure he'd be up for it, it's just—"

"I'm in," David says, entering the kitchen with a shrug of his shoulders as he grabs at an apple from the fruit bowl. "Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear."

And well, she can't really turn down the invitation now, can she?

So she lets Rose go home all pleased as punch and excited about a Thanksgiving with a group of loved ones.

.::.

David doesn't act like there's a problem, he's very nonchalant about it in front of Rose.

But after the children are asleep, she tries to be polite, to ask him why he's volunteered to make such an awkward holiday. There was no need, she insists. They could do the holiday separate, and put this off.

But David huffs, looks at her with that threatened, worried look, and she realizes he's been feeling uneasy for some time.

"Do you still… do you still want to marry me?"

Well that was unexpected.

She exhales slowly, trying to tamp down her annoyance. She was just saying they should spend their holiday _away_ from Robin, and he's still insecure?

"Of course I do," she says, as her hands curl into fists, fingernails digging in tight to sensitive flesh. _Calm. Stay calm. Stop getting angry just because he managed to hit on something sensitive._

"Because…" David sighs. "If we're going to do this we have to be a team. We have to work together. And since Robin returned, it's like you and the boys have a huge part of your life I don't get to know about. You're so distant. I don't need to be there, with Robin. Not all the time. But I can't be a stranger. I'm going to be Henry and Roland's stepfather. And I'm going to need to have some sort of relationship with their real father. If we're going to do this, Regina, I _have_ to make it right with him."

He's right. This can't continue the way they have been going. She can't keep cutting him out of plans. He's been helping her raise the boys. They adore him. And she's been shoving him to the side.

"You're right," She says nodding her head, "I've been doing this all wrong. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," David insists, placing his hand on top of hers. She doesn't like being touched, but she forces herself to accept it, to smile at the action instead of frowning and shrinking away from him. This will pass. She's just got to get over her residual guilt over Robin, has to stop worrying about him, and then it won't feel wrong every time he touches her. "I just want to be with you in this."

"You _are,_ " she says as convincingly as she can muster. But she doesn't think she has fooled him at all.

Not until she slides underneath the sheets at bedtime, and David is there, pulling her towards him.

They haven't had sex since the night Robin was found.

Haven't even truly kissed — any more than a peck. But she must be more persuasive than she thought, because he must think sex is back on the table now. He's kissing up her neck in a way she usually very much likes, and her stomach is doing flip flops, but not because of the giddy anticipation or any feelings a normal person would have during foreplay.

It just feels so _wrong._

But it's not wrong. What's wrong is getting off while thinking of your not-husband in the middle of a nice innocent bath. And that's something she may have done more than once (more than twice if we're counting excursions outside the bath tub) since Robin returned.

So she's going to ignore the voices in her head telling her to jump out of bed and she's going to _have sex with her future husband._

And after she does it once, it'll be easier to do the next time, and the next, until it's not a chore at all, right?

She hums and leans into David's mouth, her fingers now threading through his hair as he kisses down from her neck to her shoulders, to her chest.

"I've missed you," he groans. He sounds like he needs this, like he really needs this, and she could just about cry.

"Missed you, too," she lies. She grabs his undershirt and pulls him towards her lips, forces herself to kiss him deeply. He moans into her mouth, fingers prodding at her shirt, tugging awkwardly at it.

She breaks the kiss to shed herself of her shirt and her comfortable cotton pants, lets her underwear fall down with them.

Let's just… get this over with.

David takes off his shirt, leaves his boxers on though.

And then he's kneading at her breasts, sucking on one nipple as he pinches and gropes at the other.

She bites her lip and tries to think of a way she can possibly get _into_ this.

He's on top of her, grinding his erection into her, and she's giving him half-hearted thrusts back as he sucks on her nipples but it's just… it's not good.

She likes sex with David, she does.

Or she does now that they worked the kinks out. It took time, but they actually have a rhythm going now, it works. It is satisfying, usually.

Now it feels really uncomfortable, they are so not in synch.

He shifts to lie beside her and runs his hand down her body, slides between her legs, and she's embarrassed over how wet she _isn't,_ how obviously this _isn't_ working for her.

He looks up at her in question, and she bites her lip and tries to solve the problem. "Can you go down on me?"

"Of course." he nips at her bottom lip, then trails a path of kisses down her body, each one comes with its own feeling of guilt and shame, until he situates himself between her thighs and hooks her legs over his shoulder.

If she could just get into the right headspace, she could enjoy the way his tongue drags slowly and firmly against her clit, how it dips down below to dart inside her, how he fucks her with his tongue, steady and quick.

But it's not working, and he has to know it. This was a terrible thing to suggest, what in the hell was she thinking? She was thinking she needed lubrication to get sex over with, but for fuck's sake, the man knows what she looks like, what she feels like when she's turned on, and he's painfully aware that she is _not._

He's good with his tongue though, good enough, and at least he's not a quitter, so he starts working her up the way he always does, with those kisses along her upper thigh, gentle strokes of his finger through her sex, just testing, just teasing.

She feels a little faint pulse of pleasure when he drags his thumb over her clit (she's not turned on, it's barely anything noticeable, but he has experience with her body, knows where things are and what to do).

But the little thread of pleasure is under so many other emotions, and all it does is make the guilt and discomfort so much _more._

So she taps his shoulders, a signal she hopes he understands means stop. But he doesn't stop, he speeds up, starts going at her a bit harder.

"David," she whispers, and then tugs at his shoulders. "David, please…" He isn't listening, he's just _trying_ to make this work. But it won't work. "Please, stop, I can't do this," she breathes, shame licking every inch of her bare skin.

He stops, immediately, with a frustrated groan.

"It's not you," she insists, "My head's just a mess and I'm exhausted. I thought I could get myself in the mood, but… I've just been out of it all day."

"I get it," he says, standing up and walking to the bathroom. But his tone doesn't sound like he gets anything.

"David, I'm so sorry," she calls out, biting back her tears of frustration and guilt.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," he sighs before slamming the bathroom door.

Fuck. _FuckFuckFuck_.

She treks into the guest bedroom to sleep. David could use a break from her, after all.

And she sleeps so much better alone.

.::.

The next few weeks get better, in some ways, and in others worse. He kisses her on the forehead the next morning and tells her he understands she needs more time, and that he loves her and will wait as long as it takes for her to feel comfortable. And with the pressure off to be with him physically, she finds she's able to let him into those domestic moments easier.

They start getting along, and she feels connected to him in a way she hasn't since Robin returned.

She knows why. They removed sex from the equation, removed that level of intimacy.

And now, it's like he is just being a good friend who is helping her raise her sons. And well, that feels comfortable and nice, and it's far easier to handle.

Things will have to change again, but David is going to be patient and give her time. And they should definitely get Thanksgiving out of the way before they try to fix anything.


	6. Chapter 6

**Merry Christmas to everyone! This chapter is a bit painful, but gets better, I promise :)**

* * *

Thanksgiving morning, Robin wakes with a nervous flutter in his stomach.

He _loves_ this holiday for all its American nonsense. He's rather fond of an entire day centered around decadent comfort food.

And Regina is making her cornbread stuffing, and her apple pie… and there's a turkey she's roasting with a cranberry molasses glaze that he's had actual dreams about for years.

His mum is making the potatoes, and Robin himself is making a cranberry chutney and some appetizers, but Regina is really handling the bulk of this dinner. So they had decided to change the location of the meal, have it at her house instead.

Rose had been worried he'd refuse to set foot in David's house… had been prepared to argue with him over why he should go, but really, Robin has been curious as to how the boys live.

And Henry wants to show him his room.

So he agreed easily to the venue change. Plus, the novelty of his return hasn't _quite_ worn away, and there could be a few reporters without shame stalking the house, seeing how Robin is spending the holiday. It's better at Regina's.

And it's not as if he won't have friends with him there, anyway. John and Jackie are going to come along, and Will and Ana. That and his mum and the kids, and he has quite a few members of his team. Of course, David has always been closer to Killian and the other neighbor - Mary Margaret. He'll have his own corner of friends for support too, should things go poorly and they end up in a tiff. Not that they will, but, then again, Robin very much has his sights set on David's fiancé, and he's through being nice about it. It's a shite thing do, to go after a man's soon-to-be wife, but well, he kind of left honor and decency when he spent five years pissing in the corner of a cell.

These past few weeks they've caught up with one another and he's found not much has changed.

Regina never wants to leave him, is always making an excuse to see him, to catch him up on what has happened in the past five years, to show him a TV show she thought he would have enjoyed, make him a new cocktail she discovered, drag him to a new restaurant she knows he will like.

And she's doing all of this without David. Without even mentioning him.

Yesterday she had asked if he was sure he was okay seeing David. She'd asked while she was wrapped under a blanket she shared with him, her head practically laying on his shoulder as they watched _Stranger Things._

And for a second he'd wondered what she would do if he said no.

Would she choose to spend Thanksgiving with him instead of David?

He's not confident enough to test that theory, and frankly it would be rude to separate everyone on a holiday. So he'd assured her that of course it would be fine.

And then he had pressed a kiss into her hair, wordlessly daring her to tell him he shouldn't do those things anymore.

She hadn't. She had sighed in that content way instead, and leaned closer into him.

God, he wanted to take her to bed so badly, wanted to make a move, tell her the children were in their new beds and he wanted Regina upstairs in her old one. Wanted to make her come until she couldn't see straight, until she would feel that dull ache of good sex for days, until she was unable to even _walk_ without thinking of him.

But he's held back, something always telling him the time isn't right, that she's not quite ready.

She will be. He caught the way she lingered into that hug goodbye and thanked him yet again for spending the night with her.

So today he's going to meet David, and he will be kind and cordial to him, but then he's going to make it clear that this is _his_ family and he's not letting them go.

He's getting the food out of the car while his mum rings the doorbell, and by the time he makes it to the porch, the door is already open, his mum shuffling inside, swearing that it "smells like snow" outside.

Regina is there at the door to greet them, David at her side.

Well then, they are going to do this right away, huh?

"Robin, good to see you." She's wearing another dress he likes. It's a black V-neck with purple sleeves and this little fabric collar thingy that always draws attention to her chest.

He hasn't seen this one before. It might be new. Whatever it is, it's absolutely gorgeous. Her lips are painted the color of wine, hair falling perfectly around her face, ends curling in a way he _knows_ took some effort.

Her hands fall to the Tupperware in his hands, a warm smile settling on her face as her eyes lock with his.

He can't exactly hug her with food in his hand, so he closes the distance between them and plants a kiss to her cheek.

"You look stunning," he half-whispers to her, right in front of David, and he isn't even ashamed.

Regina's cheeks redden, and she gives him a little look that says both _You shouldn't have said that_ and _I'm really glad you did._

"Let me get that for you," she says, ducking down in a poor attempt to hide her smile. She carries the dishes towards the kitchen, and Robin resists the urge to follow her.

 _"_ Robin," David says tentatively, holding his hand out.

Fuck, he wants to punch him square in the jaw.

"David, good to see you," says, begging his twitching hand to steady. David's is still outstretched, waiting on that shake, but Robin can't bring himself to meet the gesture. They look each other square in the eye, and he can feel the anger radiating off of him, everything goes tense and still, and—

"Dad!" Henry comes bounding in, oblivious to the awkwardness that has fallen over the hallway.

"Hey, my boy!" Robin says, turning his attentions to the bouncing nine year old that is flying into his arms.

 _His_ arms. Not David's.

"We're so glad to have you back," Davis says softly. "It's so good to see you two together. We all missed you."

Robin realizes then that he has misread him. David might be feeling a bit territorial of Regina, he may be tense, but he's also staring at him because well, he misses Robin.

David and Robin were friends before this — good ones. And he supposed if David had been declared dead and then ended up standing in front of him nearly five years later, he'd be hugging the crap out of him.

Of course, if he had gone and fallen in love with Kathryn in the meantime there'd be some apprehension, but it wouldn't make him wish the man dead again, like Robin's been imagining David feels.

It's complicated. Messy. For everyone. David included.

Robin can at least meet the man halfway. So he sighs and shakes the man's hand.

Relief colors David's face, a thin smile spreading in place of that nervous frown.

They need to talk. That much is obvious. But not in front of Henry.

And speaking of Henry, he's dragging him to the kitchen.

"Dad, mom made apple pie, pumpkin pie, pecan pie and banoffee pie!"

"Did she?" Robin asks a bit too excitedly as he realizes she's made his favorite pie, likely just for him.

"Mhm," Regina says, smiling at him that way she does that lights up a room. "Felt like old times, making all these desserts to satisfy your sweet tooth."

There's a fruit plate on the counter, loaded with mango and pineapple.

It's not Thanksgiving food and it's certainly not the season where tropical fruits would be easy to find. She probably went to a lot of trouble. For him.

He grabs a slice of pineapple and shoots her a grateful look before taking a too-large bite and moaning softly.

"You're a child," Regina chides, suppressing a giggle as the juice dribbles down his chin. She grabs a napkin and wipes at his chin on instinct, chiding, "That fruit is for dessert."

"Mm, sometimes I like to have desserts first. You remember that about me, don't you?"

There's a hint of innuendo there, because, well, Robin had a habit of fucking her before dinner parties or even before some of their dates. But he's not sure it's obvious enough to pick up on until she blushes, removes her hand from his chin (now that had been rather intimate, hadn't it?) and wipes at some of the pineapple juice that's fallen on the counter.

"I remember you being _impatient,"_ she says, hiding from his gaze. "Never wanting to wait for anything."

"Why wait to have your favorite things?" he asks, tone of his voice making it clear he's not only talking about pies.

"Robin…" She cranes her head to look for the boys, who have scampered off to the TV in the living room, sitting with his mum and Will and Ana. They are out of earshot, if that's what she is worrying about, she needn't be.

"What?" he smirks, and she just shakes her head and mouths _You know._

David walks into the kitchen with Killian then, completely killing the mood.

But Robin plays nice, even smiles at the men, making small talk while David cracks him a beer, pausing every few minutes to steal a glance at Regina.

Guests filter in, a few he hasn't seen since he returned — it's good to see Mallory, to meet her wife Mulan for the first time (they are newlyweds and extremely happy with one another). Mal's always been Regina's friend, so he's surprised when she throws her arms around him and _cries._

"I'm just so happy to have you back," she sobs. It touches him, truly.

And it's also quite lovely to see Ana again, and to meet John's girlfriend, Jackie. She's a bit too good for him, he tells his friend playfully. And John takes it like the compliment it is.

Things feel _comfortable,_ and almost _fun,_ despite the fact he's in the home of his wife's new fiancé. Of course, throughout the conversation, he catches Regina stealing glances at him. It seems as if her eyes are always on him, and it pleases him more than it should.

.::.

She wants to kiss him.

He's wearing that same pine scented aftershave, his voice is smooth as whiskey, and when he speaks, she gets a waft of peppermint and wonders if he's indulged in a candy cane this morning (he's a weird one, always liked the combination of pineapple and mint).

She wonders how he would taste, pineapple with a hint of mint, sweet and citrus and clean.

She should stop wanting to kiss him so badly.

It's not like other times when she's wanted him in her bed, wanted him to work his magic over her body, make her writhe and scream and come… this time she just wants to feel close and connected to him, to be able to express how much he means to her without having to say the words, to regain some of that lost intimacy she craves.

Of course there's also shameless physical attraction mixed in this desire. He looks really good this morning, in a fitted navy sweater, and jeans that no longer fall off his body the way they did before. He's filled in in these last three weeks, no longer quite skin and bones, certainly not as muscular as he once was, but getting there. He likes working out, it's his own type of stress relief. And he's worked out a _lot_ since he returned home, and it's already beginning to show.

He burns off calories so fast though, it makes her want to keep stuffing him full of his favorite foods until he's back to the weight he was before he left her. This intense need to care for him, to coddle and spoil him, probably will go away after a bit. But for now she's indulging in the desire to make him as comfortable as possible. She is going to do whatever she can to make him smile — as long as it doesn't come with the price tag of being unfaithful, that is.

So the fantasy of kissing him is just that — a fantasy. She won't do it.

But she is letting herself think about it, and shamelessly flirting with him while she does. Finding excuses to touch him in entirely platonic ways, smoothing a hand over his shoulder when she asks if he wants a glass of bourbon, smushing next to him on the couch while they sip their pre-dinner drinks and munch on cheese and crackers. He's let his hand drift from her shoulders to the small of her back in a few slow passes, not exactly a back rub, but it's the gentle comforting way he'd touch her before they were separated, something small she hadn't realized she missed until it was taken from her.

He calls her _darling,_ calls everyone darling, but there's more meaning to it when he says it to her, the way he smiles when he says it, the way his eyes wander over her body.

John and Jackie are telling a story now to those who are in the living room (David and Killian are outside, checking on the ham that's currently in the smoker, and chatting with one another, Mary Margaret and Mulan are in the kitchen). Apparently they had a vacation in France, and had a jam packed five days where they tried to cram as much culture, art and history as they could. But she isn't paying attention to any of their stories, because Robin is whispering in her ear, _Remember our trip to France?_

They really meant to do sightseeing, they really did. But they ended up spending the entire vacation drinking, eating, and, well, fucking each other into the ground.

She chuckles and shakes her head, whispering back "I still lie to people and tell them we went to the Louvre."

"We saw the Eiffel tower and Notre Dame, and a bunch of bakeries and cafes, I feel we got the gist of it," Robin murmurs. "I bet we had more fun than those two anyway."

There's a bit of mischief in his eye, and she knows he's referring to their _other_ activities. She shouldn't encourage him, so she rolls her eyes playfully.

"Did you try this yet?" she asks, pointing to the crab and artichoke dip he used to love. "The recipe should be familiar. Have some!"

He scoops a healthy amount of the dip onto a celery stick, takes a bite, moans and lets his eyes drift upwards.

His mouth is still half full when he mutters a little _fuck._

And he's really attractive to her right now, so much so that her thighs clench together on instinct, for god's sake he's only eating, what the hell is wrong with her?

"I think you're trying to fatten me up," he says, after finishing the last of it.

"I am," she admits, frowning, gripping his thigh. Just a squeeze, just to illustrate her point. "You're too skinny."

And as a punctuation to the sentiment, she covers a carrot stick in crab and cream cheese and lifts it to his lips.

He frowns for a second instead of taking a bite out of her hand, as if confused.

And then it all comes back to her. She's engaged to David. She's living with him, and she's basically hand-feeding her ex, right here on the couch the poor man bought her.

So she angles the carrot stick a bit lower, towards his hands, pretends she didn't offer to let him eat out of her hand and says "Here, eat all of this. I want you back at the weight you were before you went on that whole stupid trip."

He stares at her intently, but says nothing, until he's sighing and saying "I don't know if I'll ever get back to where I was before. But you can try."

She knows he means more than just the weight. It's everything. Everything is different, and she and he both want it to be the way it was.

But they can't. Time passed, and things changed.

She wishes they hadn't.

Mallory's voice breaks the moment. "Regina, can you come here a second and show me where I left my coat? I have to get something from the car."

"It's in the closet," Regina sighs, not wanting to get up from where she's warm and comfortable.

"I couldn't find it," Mal insists. "Please show me where it is."

Mal is looking at her impatiently, and it finally dawns on Regina that this isn't about a coat, it's about an excuse to talk to her privately.

Well okay then. She gets up and excuses herself, shooting Robin an apologetic look before following Mal into the hallway.

"Regina, you can't do this," Mallory says plainly, as soon as they are out of earshot of the rest of the guests.

"Do what?" Regina asks innocently.

"You can't be married to both of them. And if a stranger were here tonight, observing, and was asked who your fiancé was, they'd be pointing to the man you can't keep your hands off of, and that's _Robin."_

A flare of defensiveness rises in her. "That's ridiculous! I've done nothing wrong!" she exclaims but Mal shrugs, looking rather unimpressed.

"I'm not saying you're cheating on anyone. I'm saying you're being very… affectionate… towards your ex-husband."

She is almost about to correct her on the term _ex-husband_ when she remembers that's exactly what he is.

"Mal, he's been through a lot, he—"

Mal just strokes her hair with a sad sigh. "You can tell yourself you're doing this for him, and maybe you believe it. I bet even your fiancé would believe it… but you can't hide that well from me. And I don't think you're really hiding things well from Robin's mother, either. And look, if you have feelings for Robin—"

"Of course I have feelings for him!" Regina hisses, "He's the father of my children, he was my husband and best friend, he was everything to me and I just got him back. How could I feel nothing for him?"

Mal rolls her eyes. "But you know what type of feelings I was referring to. I'm just saying you're sending out confusing messages, is all. And maybe it's not fair to David."

"Nothing about this is _fair,_ " Regina gripes, folding her hands and leaning against the wall like a petulant child.

"I know," Mal agrees, "this is a situation no one should _ever_ have to deal with. But you got stuck with it, and so did the kids, and so did David. So you've got to be honest with yourself and what you want sometime soon. I mean, obviously let's get through Thanksgiving dinner first, before you make any big decisions. But think about it." Mal winks at her and offers her a hug, grabs her coat for appearances and treks off to her car to retrieve whatever it was she left in there

And then Regina is alone with her thoughts. Mal is right, she's been all over Robin. And in a way that's very much on display, in David's own home. She replays the last few minutes in her mind and realizes that sideways glance John had shot his girlfriend was in reference to, the reason Rose had been smirking at her so proudly…

Shit.

It's not fair to David. Not today. This is his house and he's been doing his best to accommodate Regina and Robin, and she's being inappropriate.

So instead of returning to her spot on the couch next to Robin, she grabs her coat and joins David on the deck.

He and Killian are drinking beers and talking.

David's eyes brighten when he sees her, and she swallows down her guilt and sits beside him, helping herself to his beer and taking a sip before offering it back to him.

He takes it back and wraps his arm around her with a chuckle.

"Hello, beautiful," he says, kissing her hair. "How's it going out there?"

"Fine," she says, "Everyone's getting along nicely. And dinner will be ready shortly. Everything alright here?"

"Better now that you're here," he smiles.

And that chips away at the guilt looming over her head for how she's been treating him. Just a bit.

.::.

Robin can see them outside from his spot on the couch. He's supposed to be watching American football, but he's never much cared for the sport.

Henry likes it a lot, apparently. His eyes are glued to the television while he and John argue over who the better quarterback is.

Robin should probably pay attention to the game, too. At least make effort to connect over this with Henry.

Or… he could crawl to the floor and color with Roland.

But he isn't doing either of those things, because can't stop staring out the window, at David and Regina. He's threading fingers through her hair now, and he can see her profile, her little smile. The cool air makes her breath visible, little pants of steam coming out, and he imagines that is her laughter. He can practically hear the way it sounds, and he's envious now that David can draw such happiness out of her.

"Robin," Will whispers, snapping his fingers in front of his face. He's pushed his chair closer to him, clearly trying to be discreet. "Let it go, man."

Robin tears himself from the window and sighs. "Not so easy," he mutters between clenched teeth.

Will shrugs. "I know. Just don't dwell on that. There's lots of other things to be thankful for, yeah?"

He turns pointedly to Roland, then Henry. And fine, Will has a point. It's a bit obnoxious, to be lectured by a man who once fell asleep naked in the lobby of five star hotel, but apparently the man has matured in five years.

So Robin takes the hint, and settles on the floor next to his son.

"Can I color with you, Roland?"

"Yes! Let's pick out a page!"

Roland flips through the book, many pages half started or finished. He can pick out his wife's coloring easily, the shading she tends to do, the dark lines of crayons outlining the edges of the objects she colors.

He sees Roland's style, something he's noticed enough to pick up on over the last few weeks, the jagged, rough strokes that press into the paper deliberately.

But then there's another page with scribbled faint circles over the paper, messy, but not Roland.

"Is this an older one of Henry's? Robin asks, pointing towards the colorful page.

But Roland just shakes his head and giggles. "No daddy. That's Uncle David. He was being silly!"

Of course he was. David is an artist. Or, he's an architect, technically, but Robin remembers in college, when David would bring his charcoal pencils and sketchbook around, always finding something inspiring enough to capture on paper.

"Look, Uncle David drew me my own page to color!"

It's on the last page of the coloring book, and it really is quite a picture. There, in thick black marker, and in the same style as the rest of the coloring book, is a cartoon picture of a father, mother and two sons building a snowman together. One son around toddler age, the other quite a bit older.

It's them.

It's David, Regina, Roland and Henry, memorialized in cartoon form, looking like a perfect family.

He tamps down anger he has no right to feel; David had every right to play this role before Robin was reunited with his family.

But it still hurts.

And speaking of pain, Regina and David saunter inside, walking towards the kitchen to check on dinner. And isn't that a punch in the gut when you're already down?

.::.

Dinner goes as smoothly as can be expected. Regina sits next to David, and places their children on either side of Robin, which is rather nice. The kids are a welcome distraction, gabbing to him about their favorite dishes, their favorite Christmas movies (Henry likes _Elf_ now, but Roland prefers _The Polar Express)._ And Robin really needs to catch up on his movie watching, because he remembers very little about most of the movies they are discussing, though he enjoys the children telling him the plot of each one in their own words.

And then they discuss Christmas presents.

"I want a Spider-man drone!" Roland says brightly. And David steps in, before Robin can even say a word.

"Roland, we talked about that. It's too dangerous. It's even too dangerous for _Henry."_

"But Hunter has one!"

"Well if Hunter slices open his finger it's not my problem," Davis responds, "there are safer toys, come on. One where I don't have to worry about you."

And Robin bites down the urge to tell David he doesn't have to worry about Roland. Not anymore. He can fuck off and stop fathering his child.

Roland pouts, and Regina steps in and reminds him that there is a toy helicopter that is _just as good,_ and Robin is paralyzed as he watches Regina and David parent together, discipline him, remind him that he's not entitled to _every_ toy he wants at Christmas.

They make a good team, actually. And he hates to acknowledge it.

Mary Margaret even steps in, from her place next to David. It seems she's spent a lot of time with Roland herself, enough to change the topic and ask if he still likes camping. He's enthusiastic, recalling the time he, Henry, his mom and David went on a trip and got to sleep _in a tent._

"Ugh don't remind me," Regina moans, "are you sure you wouldn't rather go to Six Flags next year?"

Robin chuckles warmly, tries to ignore the ache in his heart, tries to keep from picturing them together, in a tent, his wife pressed against one of his closest friends.

Fuck.

"Your father loves to camp," she tells the boys, taking a sip of wine. "I'm sure _he_ would love to take you on a trip."

"Maybe this year we can camp with Uncle David and Daddy!" Roland exclaims. He looks at his mum with a mischievous grin and adds, "No girls allowed!"

His joke doesn't quite land, nervous chuckles and worried looks traded instead of the bombastic laughter Roland probably expected, but Robin's mum shifts to talk of her favorite Christmas desserts, and things get less awkward from there.

Thanksgiving dinner seems to die down around five o'clock, and the sun is already setting.

It looks beautiful at dusk, everything looks crisp and clean, vibrant colors spilling all over. He doesn't think he will ever miss this — the freedom to look at nature whenever he wants, the ability to see more than dark, clay walls.

"Daddy, do you know we have a treehouse in the backyard?" Henry asks, obviously catching the way he's been staring at the backyard. "Mom, can we show daddy the treehouse?"

Regina cranes her neck to check Henry's plate - it's empty, and Roland's only has a few spoonfuls of potatoes and a bit of green bean casserole.

"Put on your coats and gloves, its cold out," she warns.

And Henry is up, out of his chair in an instant, Roland mimicking the move himself.

"We need to show you before it gets too dark. Come on!" Henry is practically dragging him towards the back yard. "It's so cool, it has a ladder _and_ an escape rope!"

He catches the way David looks at Henry, and a fire rises inside him he tries hard to put out. David is looking down at Henry with pride, as a father would, in that loving way…

No.

This protectiveness boils inside him again, the feeling that David needs to back away from all of that is _his._.

"Come _on_ Uncle David, let's go!" Henry is staring back at David as if he's utterly confused why he isn't getting up from the table as well.

Shit.

But David, to his credit, stays in his seat and shakes his head. "I've seen it before, and I still have to finish eating. Give your dad the grand tour for me, okay?"

Henry giggles, nods, then calls to Roland to come over and help show their dad the treehouse.

After the boys are fitted in winter attire, they bound into a well-kept backyard. The tree they are running towards is something out of a movie prop, the treehouse situated on the limbs no different.

David did a good job with it, but Robin would have made it better. It's cute, and they have some toys up here. Roland explains that they use them to play _Spies._

But all Robin can think of is ways to undermine this, to improve it, to add his mark.

"Maybe I could build a slide off this tree house," Robin muses, looking down at the ground below a particular corner that would open well to a slide.

"Really?" Roland asks. "That would be _so cool!"_

 _"Mmm_ … maybe." But then he remembers it's David's yard and well, if he had his way, the kids wouldn't spend much time here. Wouldn't _want_ to spend any time here — does he really want to make David's place any better?

Maybe it's petty but no, he doesn't. He wants his wife and sons back in the house with him. And if he can't have that (before this evening he was so confident, but now…) he wants Henry and Roland to prefer his house to David's. So he considers for a few more moments before offering a new plan.

"Of course there's a nice tree in my backyard I could make a really crazy tree house on… maybe I'll start that. And then you will have _two_ tree houses."

"Can the other tree house have a slide?" Roland asks.

Robin chuckles. His tree house will be more decked out than any child's getaway ever should. "A slide? Yeah, it will have a slide."

The kids both hug him, and well, maybe he's being an ass, but it feels good to be loved at that moment.

"So," he asks, "it's my first time visiting your new house. Anything else special you'd like to show me?"

Henry can barely keep from jumping. "You need to see our rooms!" he exclaims.

Henry and Roland each have their own bedroom. Truth be told, Robin always pictured them splitting a room, as brothers tend to do (in his meager experience anyway — most of what he knows of brothers is from television and his childhood friends).

But Henry and Roland are unique boys who get along, but have drastically different interests, and Robin has to admit that they benefit from the separate space.

Henry is a dreamer. A thoughtful, creative soul who loses himself in his imagination. It's fitting that his entire room is Harry Potter themed, with the bedspread and sheets bearing the design of Gryffindor. He has a golden snitch as an alarm, a stuffed toy owl, and tons of little decorations in gold and maroon. The back of his door has a basketball hoop with a backboard that holds the Hogwarts emblem. David custom made that, Henry shows him proudly.

Fucking David.

Roland's room is decorated in greens and browns, a giant, hand painted tree stretching across the walls, monkeys hanging off of branches, owls nesting amongst the leaves, and little birds chirping all around.

"Roland likes the woods," Henry explains, "so Uncle David said he'd make him feel like he was in the forest."

This is essentially part of David's job. Customizing people's homes is his bread and butter. And he's used his talents to make Robin's sons feel comfortable.

More than comfortable. He's gone out of his way to build them the perfect living space in his home.

The boys aren't the sons of his girlfriend to David, they are _family_ and he's made effort to show he sees them as a permanent fixture in his life.

That's… wonderful, he supposes. And annoying. Or… unfair— that's the word, isn't it? It's so, so unfair that David's had them these past few years and has set down roots, has raised them as a father when Robin couldn't reach them himself.

But he knows it's ridiculous to be upset about this. The boys are well-cared for, safe, well-adjusted. And Robin really wonders if he could have done as good a job as David has, anyway.

His stomach flip-flops as he realizes this isn't a home the boys will want to leave, and he's not so sure he wants to take them from it, either.

"What's wrong, daddy?" Roland asks. He's an observant boy, has picked up on the shift in mood. "Are you sad? Do you want a sticker to make you feel better?"

Despite everything, Robin can't help but laugh. "No, Roland, I don't need a sticker. But I could use a dessert. What do you say we go downstairs and see if it's ready?"

They make it back in the kitchen in time to see Regina, Mary Margaret, and David... playing. Both women are chiding David, who has a can of whipped cream and an impish grin on his face.

"David Nolan, put that down," Mary Margaret chuckles, "there's already a can on the table."

"This will be my personal can. I'm going to need it, you _know_ I will."

"Leave the can and go take a seat." Regina tries to be firm, but a smirk gives away how amused she is.

He tilts the can of whipped cream and aims to spray it directly in his mouth.

Regina grabs it and tilts it at the last second, so it hits his cheek instead of going down his throat.

"Hey!" David shouts, playfully aiming the spray at her. Regina holds her hands in mock surrender, but David just shakes his head. There's a small chase around the kitchen island, but in the end David gets a clear shot at Regina's face. He only sprays the tip of her nose, whipped cream dotting her face as if she were some type of delicious dessert. And David must agree, because he licks the whipped cream right off her nose. And Regina _giggles_ in _that_ way.

Well, he's never going to get that sight out of his head.

"Mom, how come Uncle David gets to play with the whipped cream but we don't?" Henry asks.

Regina turns to face them, looking guilty, ashamed.

She hadn't noticed they were witness to her display, it seems. She gives Robin this little apologetic look that makes him want to scream at her, because she doesn't have to shield him from this. She loves David, that's clear now.

He was stupid to think otherwise.

"He _doesn't_ get to play with the whipped cream," Regina insists. "He's in trouble."

 _"_ Well _,_ seeing _as_ I'm already in trouble _…_ " David turns his whipped cream to Mary Margaret, and wags his eyebrows.

"I didn't do anything!" Mary shrieks, trying to put distance between herself and David, but not really going too far.

"You were a willing accomplice!" David insists.

He manages to spray her cheek, as she yells at him to _Stop_ _it already!_

Regina is watching the display with amusement, as David offers to clean the cream up, and just rubs it into her cheek instead.

The boys rush to David's side, both trying to grab the bottle to spray him while Mary Margaret rushes off to the bathroom to clean up.

It's just the four of them in the kitchen, for a moment.

And it's all very domestic and sweet, and Robin doesn't belong.

His heart aches, actually _aches,_ because it's clear what the right thing to do is.

His sons are happy and healthy in a perfect nuclear family. And Robin is a broken, unstable man still suffering nightmares from five years ago, still trying to get used to living back here.

He loves his sons more than life itself, and that's why he is going to let them go.

They can visit him as often as they like, but Regina and David are their _home_ now.

Robin's just a man who happened to help make them.

"Do you kids want dessert or do you want to have a food fight in the kitchen?" Mal asks dryly, "Because if you are forfeiting your share of pie, I'm going to eat it."

"No, Aunt Mal, I want my pumpkin pie!" Roland exclaims, giddy with excitement.

"Well, then, let's eat."

The sweet little moment of the four of them is over soon, but it plays in Robin's mind on repeat, lingering and answering questions he didn't really want to know, after all.

He tries his best to conceal his misery through dessert, making small talk with his mum and John, but he feels dead inside.

He can't bring himself to even finish a piece of banoffee pie. It tastes like dirt in his mouth. And in the end, to spare Regina's questions, to keep her from wondering why he can't eat his favorite sweet, he feigns an illness and explains he has to go home early.

"I love you guys," Robin says, hugging and kissing each of his sons.

He says a perfectly polite goodbye to everyone, but Regina insists on walking him to his car.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" Regina asks. "I could give you a ride, if you—"

"It's just a stomach ache. I'm not used to this rich food. I can make my way home just fine." He puts on his best smile, but Regina doesn't seem convinced.

"Is everything else okay?" she asks, "You seemed a bit… mellow at dessert."

"Just my stomach. And you know… being in a large group of people for a long time might be an issue for me." It's a lie, it's something his psychiatrist has told him to be on the lookout for, but it's not yet an issue he's encountered.

She's not buying his fake illness, but she seems to buy that. "Oh. Do you want me to drive back with you? Finish off Thanksgiving with a smaller crowd? Just me and you, and some irish coffee and banoffee pie?"

He's been misinterpreting these offers, her desires to always spend time with him, as a sign she's still in love with him. As a sign he has a chance.

But now, here, under the pale moonlight in David's driveway, while Regina hugs at the wooly cardigan she tossed on before running out to follow him, everything is clear.

She's been spending all this time with him because she feels responsible for him. Maybe a bit guilty for moving on. And god, it is possible there's pity there. She looks so concerned, so loving, but it's not romantic love. It's… almost maternal. He's been reading everything differently. She's been treating him as a child in need of affection, not an adult she wants to spend time with.

"I'm fine, Regina. Truly." He should probably be angry with her, for coddling him in a way she knows he wouldn't want from her, but he's not. He loves her too deeply to be angry at her for something she did with only good intentions.

Regina still looks worried, but lets him go.

And he will let her go, too.

.::.

Regina had known the first time Robin and David shared a meal together, it would be a bit awkward.

And it was, for her. But she hopes everyone else hadn't felt as uncomfortable as she did.

It was good to see Robin interacting with the kids so much in their home. She hopes, in an odd way, that he's proud of her for making a home for them that is worthy of them, is what they deserve.

But since her talk with Mal she had forced herself to give David his time, to show him gratitude for what he's done, fitting for Thanksgiving.

It still feels squirmy and uncomfortable when he calls her _beautiful_ or scratches her neck and shoulders, it's odd, but when he touches her, she feels like she's cheating on Robin. And she's been waiting for that feeling to pass but it just isn't going anywhere.

But she'd overdone things with that little whipped cream fight. It had been fine when it was just David and Mary Margaret goofing around, but she caught the hurt in Robin's eyes as he watched her with him.

And it's not like she can tell him it _isn't what it looks like,_ because regardless of how she's feeling right now, she does truly love David, and she's going to end up marrying him, right?

At least, she thinks she is, and it would be unfair to let Robin think there's more.

After Robin leaves she busies herself with cleanup and lets David take over the hosting duties. Tidying up helps her decompress, settles the swelling emotions threatening to burst free.

She stays in the kitchen, for the most part, until the last of the guests filter put, pausing only to say her goodbyes.

David, for what it's worth, looks incredibly happy. In fact she's not sure she's seen him smile so much since Robin returned.

She worries that he thinks they've fully healed now, that they can go to bed and be with one another again, but he doesn't seem to be working to towards that.

"Tonight went well, huh?" he asks, and she wants to laugh in his face and remind him that Robin practically ran the hell out of there and it wasn't a good evening if her children's father is unhappy.

But she goes for a more careful approach as she unloads the dishwasher.

"It was a great meal. Except for Robin falling ill."

"I'm sure he's fine. He seemed to like the house. We didn't talk much but… I think he's coming around. The kids said he raved about their rooms."

Regina smiles and thanks him again for those rooms, for treating her sons so well.

"Leave this for now, come to bed," he urges, wrapping an arm around her. "I'll finish this up tomorrow."

Regina shakes her head. "No, I'm in a groove now. You go to bed. I'll join you in a bit."

He doesn't argue, just nods and says his goodnight, but that smile never leaves his face.

She works slowly, and when the kitchen is clean she takes out the Christmas decorations and starts to put them up. And by the time she makes her way upstairs, David is thankfully asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

After Thanksgiving, nothing with Robin feels the same. She drops the kids off with him on Saturday, and he's got plans to go to a movie and lunch with them, but doesn't invite Regina to come along. In fact he doesn't really invite her in during the drop off like he usually does (she comes in anyway and he doesn't _protest,_ either, but he's not as warm and welcoming as he once was).

When she asks if he wants to see the kids on Sunday he says he's still feeling a bit off, and that he'd rather they spend their time with her and David.

And that is _very_ unlike Robin.

And then there is the missed phone call. Over the last few weeks he's fallen into a routine with Regina. He calls her at the office, nearly every work day right around lunch.

In the beginning the calls were centered around the visitation schedule for his sons, or checking in to see how a particular issue with Henry's school went, or asking if Roland still had that worrisome cough.

But after sometime they started being catch up phone calls, time to talk about their day, the weather, some random memory Robin just thought of, some random suggestion Regina has for Robin.

It's casual and not a planned event at all, not _supposed_ to be expected but she cherishes these moments of her day, has scheduled her calendar completely around them.

So when Robin doesn't call by 12:30 on Monday, she breaks down and calls him.

He doesn't answer.

She leaves a quick voicemail about how she wants to talk to him about Henry's indoor soccer league schedule, but it's a pitiful excuse, and Robin knows it. He doesn't respond until hours later in text form, just a quick message to thank her for letting him know that he has a new team, and that he will be there for every game and practice he can get himself to. He mentions looking for a job, and that he will be a bit busier now.

It makes no sense. She highly doubts he's fit to find a fulltime job so shortly after returning, and it seems unlikely he'd pick up a job for anything other than retail until the New Year.

It sounds like a flimsy excuse, and she worries until she sees him two days later.

He's polite. Friendly, but distant.

This distance grows the next week, and so does her misery.

She can't sleep, can't stop worrying about him. She confides in _David_ of all people, that she's worried about Robin.

"We don't know what is going on," David tries to soothe, "it could be he's just trying to adjust to the new normal. He's been spending a lot of time with you and the kids, but he has to eventually find a place of his own, right? So maybe he's taking time to figure that out."

But she finds she doesn't _want_ him to figure it out. She wants him with her, and it's selfish and unfair to ask of him so she will bite her lip quietly and say nothing, but she really just wants him to be a semi-daily part of her life. She wants to hear from him nearly every day, see him for all the important moments in their lives.

It's hard — realizing he _can't_ be. No one else besides her children and David hold that.

But she's not quite ready to accept this.

She approaches David first. Robin and Regina haven't discussed it, but she's sure he'd let her have the children for both the Eve and the day if she asked, but well, is that _fair?_ He's their father and he's missed so many Christmases it seems only fair they offer him this one.

Except… they won't miss out on Christmas with the children if they invite him here, will they?

David is an easy sell, says Robin is always welcome at any holiday she wants to invite him to.

She probably shouldn't be trying to find a way to get him here for Christmas, but well, the thought of spending another Christmas without Robin — particularly when he's so close, is more than she can bear to think about.

Christmas is special because Robin loves it. Or loved. She has no idea how he feels about it now, but before he left on that damned trip, he was incredibly taken with every last corny holiday tradition. He was ugly sweaters and mall store Santas, plastic reindeer and rainbow colored Christmas lights, insisting they fully embrace the holiday "for Henry's sake".

So armed with those memories, she approaches him when dropping the kids off on Friday.

It's perfect, because Rose is back for the weekend, and she's going to extend the same invitation to her.

But when Robin answers the door and lets the boys in without saying a word to her, she starts to lose her nerve.

"Hey," she says cautiously, stepping off the porch into the hallway. She hears the sound of the Lego video game the kids love already on in the background, Rose's voice lifting over it to tell them they can't play that game until they give their grandmother a hug _._ She smiles at that, shooting him a knowing glance about Rose and her alleged "discipline".

"Hello, Regina." His smile in return doesn't quite meet his eyes, doesn't sound quite as eager as she does. "What do you have there?" he points to the brown box in her hands.

"Christmas decorations. Ornaments that belong to you, things I knew were your favorites…" she trails off when she sees his face go sour momentarily. Shit.

"You should keep them. I think they are better… together. Part of a set, you know?"

She sets the box on the hallway table and fishes out a handmade ornament with Henry's handprint, decorated with colored toothpicks with the words _World's Best Daddy_ underneath.

"This belongs to you. And it will be part of a set, because I can tell you that Roland is making you something similar for Christmas this year."

That seems to soften Robin a bit, he takes the ornament, chuckles and nods.

"I guess I'll have to put up a tree after all," he grins.

"You weren't going to put up a tree?" Regina can't fight the look of absolute horror on her face. "But you love Christmas!"

He's looking at her more honestly now, hands in his pockets as he leans against the front door. "It's… complicated."

It's a sad moment, but it's also more connected than she's felt with him since Thanksgiving.

"I'm sure the holidays away were not… holidays." she mutters, then shakes her head. "I mean, I _don't_ know what it was like then, I figured Christmas wasn't celebrated at all and at least you'd have no bad memories but—"

"I understand," Robin says, nodding his head. "And I don't want to talk about it, if that's okay." She squeezes his hand in answer, and then he continues. "Anyway, I figured the children would spend Christmas with you and David, and I'd have little use for a tree all to myself."

"I wanted to talk to you about that…" Regina tucks a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. "The kids want to see you for Christmas. They want to open presents with you, want you to see everything they got from Santa, and I'd like to see you, too. Christmas without you was…" No, she's not allowed to do this. She's not allowed to tell him that she misses him, that she was miserable without him. Not when she has David.

"It'd be nice to have you there. And to see Roland and Henry all excited for Santa…" A low blow to use the children like this, but she is desperate.

Robin winces. "I had already planned on spending Christmas in Connecticut..."

"Well, I don't know why you'd be celebrating in Connecticut while Roger and I are going to be celebrating Christmas right here with your family," Rose scoffs, walking into the hallway.

Regina feels her heart swell yet again for Rose. Bless that woman.

"I—you're going to Regina's for Christmas?" he asks.

She shrugs. "And Christmas Eve. I have a standing invitation every year, what else would I do? Go down to visit Roger's sister in _Florida?_ No, absolutely not."

Robin still looks conflicted, seems to be teetering with the idea. And finally he seems to concede, asking one more time, "You sure I won't be imposing?"

Rose smacks him playfully upside the head and Regina shakes her head. "We _want_ you there."

So he bites his lip and nods, and asks what he should bring to dinner.

.::.

The moment Regina leaves, Robin regrets agreeing to yet another joint holiday.

It had just been so hard to say no to her. He loves her too much.

He knows he tried to conceal the misery of seeing them together at Thanksgiving, but she had to know _something_ was up. And she's asked this of him anyway.

It's selfish. And painful for him.

His mother on the other hand, seems happier than she has in weeks. She's humming as she starts dinner, looking positively pleased with herself.

"I wish you wouldn't have done that," he mutters to his mom.

"Done what? Accepted your lovely wife's invitation to Christmas?"

" _Ex-_ wife," he corrects. "And Thanksgiving was awful enough, and now I have to go through it at _Christmas?"_

Rose frowns, and sighs. "I didn't realize it was _awful._ It seemed quite lovely from where I was standing. The boys were falling all over you, Regina was happier than I've seen her, I'm sure that had something to do with the fact that she spent the bulk of her time with you or talking about you… and until you ran out, you looked quite cheery too."

"I didn't _run out_." He scowls. She's going to make him say it, isn't she? "Mum, it's not easy to see her with him. And I know I have to but I just don't need to sit through an entire holiday seeing how cozy they are together."

"Did we even go to the same Thanksgiving?" Rose asks, surprise. "Cozy? Robin those two are—"

"Engaged. Those two are _engaged._ " Robin is furious. What is wrong with his mother and her deluded fantasies?

"She wanted you there for Christmas. She was prepared to beg. I could see it in her eyes."

"To alleviate her own guilt," he reminds her, "or maybe because she genuinely cares about me, but she's not asking for her benefit. And if she was, it would be selfish. It's not fair. I see her and I want to throw my arms around her, but I can't, because she's David's. So I have to sit there, _wanting to be with her,_ trying not to feel envious and angry and miserable, and the kids don't need that. They don't deserve it."

"The children deserve to see their father on Christmas. They've had enough Christmases without you. And I've been giving you time, because Lord knows you've been through more than most could handle in a lifetime, but it's time you leave all those hurt feelings aside and start doing what's best for the boys. They want to see their father for Christmas. So I don't blame Regina for asking you, because when your child hands you a Christmas wish list for Santa that says "Please bring daddy back" it _really_ hurts. And Regina has had to suffer that. More than once."

He can't argue with her. So he doesn't. He just helps her with dinner, and puts the argument aside for now.

But days later, Regina is still… being Regina. She's being flirty, and comforting, and wonderful. And gorgeous, she's gorgeous, and his libido is very much back in full force, and he _wants_ her, all the time. It's been five years, very nearly, and he really needs to feel her.

He tells himself he needs to push her away, to tell her she can't keep calling, can't linger at every pickup and drop off, but every time he starts to have the conversation with her, he can't get the words out.

Because really, the last thing he wants is her further away from him, unhealthy as it may be to let her stick around. As much as it hurts to see her with someone else, he wonders if it would hurt more to not see her at all.

Still, they can't keep doing this to one another.

Regina's never going to let him go, she's always going to feel obligated to him, and he's never going to get over her if she's always there, coddling him.

He has to do something to get her to let him go. For her to let the past stay in the past, to keep her from saying things that keep inspiring hope in him, then crushing it the next time she mentions David.

.::.

The world seems much lighter now that Regina knows she will see Robin on Christmas.

He's still a bit cold towards her, and she supposes that's residual Thanksgiving awkwardness. But they will figure it out. Work out whatever kinks there are and make it so they can be around one another, so she can see him comfortably alive, feel him, warm and solid and next to her.

For now she tries not to push too hard, to give him a bit of space, but to keep letting him know she cares, that he matters to her. She doesn't call everyday anymore, but she sends texts, little notes of memories she had of their lives together, a picture of an amazing meal she had a place he might like, a message about the Christmas festivities in Philadelphia this year and what the boys want to see. He usually responds via text, but positively so, until one day he calls her to discuss Christmas gifts.

"I figured this might be a bit complicated of a discussion," he explains, "it's my first Christmas back and I'd like to spoil them terribly. I have four Christmases' worth of presents to get."

"Actually you don't. We always got a present and marked it _From Daddy_ every year. It was part of Santa's magic. You… should probably have known that earlier. Henry… I think he knows about Santa by now, but he's holding on for one more year. Roland fully believes and is very curious about the entire thing."

"Oh, I know. I've been asked about the specifics of Santa's sleigh and the age of all his reindeer. He's a thoughtful little guy."

"Mhm," she chuckles. "And I'm betting he's mentioned at least half a dozen things he wants for Christmas. What were you thinking of getting?"

It's all strictly gift discussion after that, but it somehow gets comfortable, and then he's making her laugh when he gives his opinions on some of the more odd gifts he's come across . "Why would anyone want a pillow designed to look like a cartoon piece of poo?" he asks, baffled.

"As long as it doesn't involve _PJ Masks_ , I am not going to argue," she sighs.

"Oh, please don't bring that fucking show up," Robin groans. "They must get their TV taste from their mother."

"Hey!" she says defensively, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You may have thought you deleted all the evidence, but I've caught you more than once watching bad reality TV," he chuckles. "Dance Moms, The Bachelor, and I'm sure there were others."

She laughs, more out of shock than embarrassment. She hadn't really been _hiding_ her guilty pleasure shows, but she certainly hadn't been discussing it with him. "Why didn't you tease me about this years ago?"

"Eh, if I teased you, you would have stopped watching, and I loved you too much to deny you your fun." He says easily.

It's actually rather thoughtful. And, well, accurate. "You know me well," she muses.

"Mm, I really do…" he says, and it sounds flirtatious, almost like they are back to some sort of normal.

It emboldens her just enough to ask him to the Christmas Village at LOVE park. "Like we used to with Henry? I still take them every year. It's really cute, and a great memory. I was thinking of taking them on Friday?"

There's an awkward silence, and she knows something is wrong before he says it.

"Err… that _might_ not be a good night for me," he says slowly.

"Oh, are you getting together with the guys? I could have sworn John told me he'd be at the park—"

"No, not with the guys…" Her heart is beating so fast she feels it in her eardrums, and then he lets it drop. "I uhh, actually, I have a date."

It's the ugly, seething kind of jealousy that rises inside her. The _I can't have him, but no one else gets to, either_ kind. She hates herself for it.

And it's terribly unfair that she wants to scream and ask him how the hell he's ready to start dating this soon. She's with David and has no right to be anything but happy for him.

"Oh." She says, "Is it… someone I know?"

"It's a friend of Ana's." He says simply. "Will set me up."

She swallows heavy and asks, "First date, or—"

"Third. If you count the quick coffee we had with Will and Ana when we first met."

 _"_ So… you must really like her."

She's not really sure what else she can say, but she's still shocked and upset.

"It's new," Robin explained. "We only met two weeks ago." There's another long pause and then he adds, "I like what I know of her."

"Good," Regina struggles to say, "that, that's nice for you. I'm glad you found someone."

She's glad this came up over the phone, at least. She's always been good at keeping her voice steady, and it's not like he can see her tears.

She can't help but add, "I didn't realize you were ready for… that."

She must be really transparent, because he answers her defensively with a, "Well, I just thought I ought to try finding someone that makes me as happy as David makes you."

"Does she?" Regina asks with a heavy swallow. "Make you happy, I mean."

Robin scoffs and reminds her. "Regina, it's a third date."

"Right…" Regina says cautiously, trying not to think of _her_ third date with Robin, because she was already head over heels for him by then and letting him give her orgasm after orgasm. She's not going to make it through the rest of this conversation before breaking down, so she hits the second line button on her office phone. It beeps, gives the appearance of call waiting, and that's what she needs right now. "Shit, sorry, Robin, I have to go - that's uhhh - one of my more important clients."

"Sounds good. You're dropping off the kids tomorrow?"

"Yes," she croaks out, "Yes, I'll drop them off."

And then he hangs up, just in time to miss hearing the sob she can no longer contain.

.::.

She's in a miserable mood for the rest of the day, and it carries on into the night. She's short tempered with the kids, too distracted to concentrate on dinner and badly overcooks the pork tenderloin. And she's been scowling anytime someone tries to talk to her.

Needless to say, her change in mood is obvious to David.

And he's so wonderful, asking her if he can do anything, if she needs anything. But she doesn't. Not really, except for Robin to not fall in love with this new woman, but that's not really something she can tell her fiancé she _needs,_ is it?

"Talk to me," David implores, desperately. "Just let me know what's going on."

"It's nothing," Regina insists, "I'm just having an off day. They happen."

"Regina…" he sighs and rubs his temples. "You know, every year around this time you miss him the most, and we talk about it, and—"

"But I don't miss him anymore!" she all but yells back. "I don't miss him because he's alive, and here. So that's not it, okay?"

"Then what is it?" he presses, "because you practically _skipped_ off to work today, you've been incredibly happy for the past week, and you've been on edge since you got home. Is it something at work?" He pauses, as if reading the answer and tries again. "Did your mother try to contact you again?" Cora had attempted to reach her after Robin was found, she's sure the national news coverage provoked Cora to finally care (probably wanted a taste of the spotlight) but Regina had left her calls unanswered. David looks at her, shakes his head, and concludes. "So it's something with _Robin,_ then."

"It's nothing with Robin!" Regina lies. And that just pisses David off more.

"Talk to me about it, for fuck's sake! You're still my fiancé, even if you won't touch me, you won't tell me you love me, you won't _fuck_ me, but you at least used to _confide_ in me, and if you can't do this…"

Fuck.

She's really fucked up.

She opens her mouth to apologize but he does first, sinking to the couch with his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. You're going through a hard time, and I'm being—"

"Perfect." she finishes for him. "You're being perfect, and I'm being selfish."

"I'm being far from perfect," David mutters.

"You're giving me all the space I need, you're letting me… see my ex as long and as often as I like, and I'm sure that makes you feel—"

"It doesn't make me feel the way you think," David admits. "Regina, I love you, and Henry and Roland, I do. I love you guys, but…" he trails off, his eyes darting towards the rug. "So much of our relationship after Robin and Kathryn left was about comforting one another, being there for one another. And then I got over Kathryn, but you never really got over Robin, did you?"

She can't argue with that, but it hurts too much to admit it. Still, she shoots him a sympathetic look, and he takes it as what it is meant to be — an unspoken admission.

"I didn't mind, because what we had felt so… important. We had one another, I had a family, I had a beautiful woman I loved beside me, a strong woman that I knew needed me in a way, and it made me feel so _good._ I love you, I do, but you know that spark, that passion you feel… I just, I never felt it, and I'm so sorry, I—"

"I didn't feel it either." Her eyes are wet and red, but there's relief in her tears. It's been such a struggle, trying to hide this from him, from her boys, from herself.

"But it still felt good." David acknowledges, and Regina nods. "It still felt right… at the time. And I didn't want it to end, so I proposed. I don't think I even knew something was missing until Robin came back and you withdrew from me… and I kept thinking I should be more upset, I should be jealous, I should want you around more. I kept trying to reconnect to you, kept thinking I could get my mind back to where it was, but it wasn't working. For either of us. And I'm sure you felt guilty and worried about me, and I'm sorry. I was too much of a coward to admit I didn't feel what I should, in that situation."

It dawns on her then, the all-too-understanding manner in which David has let her go and spend time as she pleases with Robin, the fact that he hasn't complained much about her sleeping in the guest room lately…

"When did you know for sure that it wasn't working?" Regina asks, going back over every interaction they had, trying to find _The Moment._ But she's been so self-absorbed she hasn't really paid enough attention to David.

Now he looks utterly miserable, and avoids looking her in the eyes. "It happened… oh god, Regina I'm so sorry. It happened when… when I started having feelings for someone else."

Well, that's a shock.

She should be absolutely devastated, heartbroken, betrayed. But she just feels happy for him. Relieved.

A smile spreads on her face, and she wipes her tears and she slides next to David on the couch. "Who?" she asks, her hand softly on his knee.

He looks up at her, at the way she's smiling, and his expression shifts into something a bit less miserable.

"You're not upset? I know—"

"I'm not upset, David. And I should be, or should have been if we were in love like that. But we aren't. You're right. I haven't even discussed a wedding, or our future marriage, in months. I couldn't picture myself being married to you and that made me feel so, so guilty. So I'm not upset. You're my best friend, and I'm _happy_ for you."

He looms so relieved, gathers each of her hands in his own and gives it a squeeze. "I do love you, and the kids. I really do, and the thought of not seeing them anymore—"

"That's not going to happen." Regina interrupts. "They love their Uncle David."

He laughs, and shakes his head. "We never did get around to teaching them to just call me David. I think in some ways, we always knew."

"Probably," Regina gives. "Now tell me who you have feelings for."

"We haven't done anything," he says too quickly, which makes her raise an eyebrow. "It's Mary Margaret," he groans, settling his head in his hands again.

The neighbor? Shy, goodie-two-shoes little Mary Margaret, who always has some charity she's baking cookies to support, who still visibly winces when curse words are used. Fuck. Regina didn't think she had it in her.

"Mary Margaret, really?"

"She always wants to help. You know she's offered her support since Robin returned, so while you were with him she'd come by sometimes, and we'd talk, or just watch television, and it was… nice. And then Thanksgiving happened and I was so happy... and I realized it was partly because of _her._ I felt more for her than I should."

"Does she feel the same?" Regina asks. David shrugs at first, says he doesn't know, but then quickly amends, "I think so. There was a… moment. Felt like we might, like we both wanted to… anyway there was a moment, and she got flustered and ran off." David looks up at her apologetically. "I was waiting for you to end things, and that was wrong. This isn't on you, it's on me."

"It's on both of us," Regina assures. "I've been lying to myself about this whole thing for a while now."

"So, what do you want to do?" David asks, "The next step, I want to make it together. We've made every step in this relationship as a team, I feel it's only fair we end it the same way."

God, she loves him. She smiles and nods, and it's wonderful to finally feel so light and free — trying to make herself fit into this relationship has been strangling her and she hadn't even realized it.

"It will be hard on the kids," Regina admits, "and we will need to find a new place to live. I think… let's give them a nice Christmas and New Year's, and then we will break it to them… if you are fine with waiting, that is."

He nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It doesn't feel romantic, it feels… brotherly, almost. It's amazing how quickly things have shifted back into the realm of platonic. "That's what I was hoping you'd say. I'd love one last Christmas with you all."

"It won't be the last," Regina says firmly. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you for the holidays for years to come."

David smiles then, and presses a kiss into her hair. "Thank you for being so… you. But are you sure you want to wait until after the holidays, yourself?"

"Of course," she frowns and tilts her head in curiosity, "what do you mean?"

"You're still in love with him." David says simply, and _oh._

Regina scoffs and starts stacking the coasters on the coffee table. "That may be, but it's complicated. He told me he's been dating."

David scoffs. "So? You are his _wife."_

But he doesn't understand, so she elaborates. "Right now, I'm his ex-wife. And he is actually going on a third date with some woman tomorrow night. That's why I was so upset, by the way. I didn't tell you because I knew how unfair it was."

David shakes his head and tells her it's nothing, that he's glad she finally told him. "I wouldn't give up on him if I were you. I know he loves you."

Regina frowns. "I'm sure he does, in a way. But I really hurt him. And pain like that can do permanent damage. Plus, it's not like him to lead a woman on. He wouldn't date if he was still hung up on _us_. So… I don't think it's something I want to discuss. Not until after New Year's."

David nods, then kisses her on the forehead, and tells her that he hopes she finds happiness.

They sleep together that night, sharing a bed as friends, not lovers.

Regina sheds a few tears, in gratitude for what this man has meant to her over these past five years, over how much she will miss his companionship, over how much she cares or him, and wishes she could give him the world. But not once does she wish he would stay, does she wish she could save this relationship. Ending it is right. It hurts, in a way, but not as much as the pain of trying to fit together when they simply did not.


	8. Chapter 8

Robin has been on a few dates with Sabine, but it's not serious.

He's fairly certain she doesn't think it's serious, either. He's shared one awkward goodnight kiss with her, so mundane and flat he almost laughed at the absurdity.

She's gorgeous, and funny, and if the scones she made are any indication, she's a talented baker, but she's not for him.

But he's glad he at least _tried._

It makes him a little less, well, frustrated with Regina. It makes it easier to accept that he can't be with her. Dating divided the lines a bit for him, made him stop thinking of kissing her for a second or two. He can't think of that now for an entirely healthy reason — he's with someone else (not really, they aren't exclusive, they are barely more than friends, but pretending that's the reason is helping).

Things are going well, until they aren't.

He just asks if there are any new holiday traditions he should be aware of — with Christmas approaching rapidly — and Regina's whole mood shifts.

"David's family always opened one gift on Christmas Eve. So we do that now. And I've kept my tradition of a big feast with no meat on Christmas Eve."

Robin nods, grabbing her hand and giving it a good squeeze. It's her tradition, from her father's side of the family. He knows that would last.

"We um, we go to your grave… and lay down a Christmas wreath, but I think we'll skip that tradition this year," she tries to laugh, but it doesn't quite hit. There's still pain there. "They always get Christmas pajamas — matching ones. They wear them on Christmas Eve. And then they pick out a new ornament for the tree every year — they've already picked out this year's." And then she coughs, pauses for a bit, and reveals with such warmth, " And I— _we,_ we try to put together the toys that require assembly on Christmas Eve after they go to bed, so the kids have everything all ready to be played with..." and that's when he sees how choked up she's getting. "David is always thinking of them. Started coming in to help me for my first Christmas alone and never really stopped. He is really great to them."

"I agree," he says, trying to hide the jealousy in his voice. He really does agree. David is a great father to them, has given them more joy than he ever has, that's for sure.

David is what they deserve.

"Sorry," Regina says, wiping at her eyes, "This has been quite an emotional time, now it seems _everything_ is making me cry."

"Don't apologize," Robin says, wrapping an arm around her. "It's a sweet tradition. I'm glad you're happy."

She looks… skeptical, maybe, at his words. Her mouth opens as though to say something, but then she closes it.

But he really is happy for her.

Even though it hurts. There is not a sharp pain, but a deep, dreadful ache that grows every moment leading up to Christmas Eve.

He's invited to that feast, too. And to the festival of lights event that they are attending beforehand.

But when it's time to leave to meet the perfect family, he finds he doesn't have it in him.

He texts an apology to Regina, and to his mum. Tells them he's got a terrible cold, and can't make it out tonight.

His mum and Roger are driving directly there, and won't be stopping to see him beforehand. Still she texts him back, _Do you need me to stay in with you? Offer you anything to get your health back so you can make the Eve dinner?_

She's onto him.

He assures her that he will be fine, so long as he stays out of the cold air.

And that seems to quiet her.

He feels sorry for lying to her. He has no intention of showing up tonight or tomorrow. But he certainly isn't going to reveal all that now, and waste the next few hours with her trying to change his mind.

.::.

Regina has spent four lonely Christmases suffering from the nostalgia of her holidays with Robin. She used to dread this day as much as she looked forward to it. She loves the festivities, the decorations, the Christmas cookies, the holiday movies and the music — all of it is like a warm, comfortable sweater she likes to wrap around herself and sink into for the entire season. But every now and then something will remind her that she is not a whole person anymore, that she's missing a part of her, and she's left with that familiar burn of grief, setting fire to everything she's tried to build since Robin died and putting her right back in square one.

But this time, Robin is here. And she had been thrilled, assumed she could finally enjoy Christmas without dodging the landmines of grief she has to navigate around every holiday.

Except, well, they aren't together, and there's a different sort of pain. It's a dull ache, a constant, under the surface discomfort when he's not right next to her.

So she's so happy he will be there for this Christmas anyway, because the pain all but disappears when he's near her.

She is downright _giddy_ as she readies everyone to go to Franklin Square. They don't go every year, and certainly not on Christmas Eve. The Festival of Lights on the Eve can often be a melancholy affair, seeing all the families and the excited children running around. But this time every excited screech of _Daddy, carry me!_ won't come with that pain.

Last Christmas had been the first that she and David celebrated as a _couple._ David took them to the festival, so he could carry Roland on his shoulders as the crowds grew thick. And that was… nice. But came with its own sort of sorrow, as she looked at him and thought of what was unfairly taken from Roland.

Tonight is going to be so different. She's finally free of that cloud of heartache that seems to follow her through every family friendly affair this time of year.

They are driving into the city when the text pops up

 _So sorry to do this, but I won't be able to make the Festival. I've been battling a cold for a few days, and woke up with a fever, and a nose that won't stop running. I'd be miserable company, I'm afraid._

"Sounds like Robin is sick," Regina says in an unconvincing voice, mindful of the children sitting behind her. "He may have to miss the Festival."

"But I want to go with Daddy!" Roland shouts from the back. "Can't we just give him medicine?"

"I hope he's already taken some," Regina says, clicking her tongue in displeasure.

She texts back.

 _The boys are going to really miss you, are you sure you can't come? I have tissues. And Tylenol._

Robin texts back again.

 _Hate disappointing them. Give them a hug and kiss from their dad. I really don't want to get any worse, and I'd hate to be grumpy and miserable and sour their Christmas._

Regina frowns. She's quite sure that the boys would rather have their father there, sick and tired, than not there at all.

 _Nonsense, the boys want to see you for Christmas more than anything. We will turn around right now and go to your house and watch a movie instead._

Robin insists they still go, however, and then adds a line that has her agreeing to the whole thing.

 _Just want to rest as much as I can so I can attend all the other events this Christmas._

She is pleased to know this isn't a closed door on the rest of the day (she'd never allow it, would march right over there and drag him out) so with relief she texts back.

 _So you are still planning on attending dinner tonight_?

He starts to reply several times, and stops, so it's a bit odd when she just gets back a single _Yes._

And with that, she announces that their daddy will miss the festival but will meet them back home for dinner.

The boys are disappointed, but not heartbroken.

 _Heartbroken_ would be the word to describe them when Robin doesn't show up for dinner, and texts again right before the meal is to start to say he's feeling even worse, and won't be able to make dinner or the Eve present opening.

Rose reacts first, grabbing her cell phone and walking to another room to _Call and check that he's okay._

But Regina knows from the way Rose's shoulders haunch, the way her eyebrows furrow, and the way her lips purse and pinch, that she's not worried about Robin's health.

And that phone call will be a lecture and Rose is going to get him to show up, she just knows it.

But 25 minutes later Rose walks back to the dinner table with a heavy sigh, and says "Well, we can start."

"Robin? Is he really sick?" Regina asks.

Rose just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "That's what he says. Too sick to see the family he's missed seeing for years. Must be pretty sick."

"And I assume he isn't going to be here tomorrow?" Regina asks.

Rose scoffs, "He says it depends how he's feeling. He doesn't want to give anyone his cold."

It's Regina's turn to look skeptical, tilting her head in annoyance.

Rose throws up her hands. "I know, I know. I don't know what has gotten into that damn boy."

Regina sighs, and calls her boys to the dinner table, bracing herself for the inevitable "Where's daddy?" question.

They don't even sit down at the table before asking.

God damn it, Robin.

.::.

Christmas Eve doesn't actually end up being that bad, despite the disappointment of Robin being a no-show. David's spoiled the children, and part of her knows it's because he's worried that it's his last Christmas with them. The "one gift" that they open is his, and Henry's is an Xbox one, and Roland's is a robotic BB-8.

She didn't think of either of these things, and pulls at her heart that David knows them so well.

But then Roland has to mention his father again, and how he had planned to open _his_ gifts tonight, and she's hurt all over again.

Maybe it's her fault that Robin skipped out. She pushed too hard, she used Rose to twist his arm into agreeing to the whole damn thing, she could tell he never really wanted to come anyway.

Maybe he thinks that now that he's moving on with someone new, he shouldn't be spending time as a family with her.

She has no clue what the fuck it is, but she knows it's not Henry or Roland who caused this, and it's unfair that they should have to suffer because their father has a problem with her.

It sticks with her, this anger, this frustration at him, the entire night. She tries to keep smiling, to laugh as they watch movies and sip hot cocoa with peppermint candy and whipped cream.

She tries to let it go.

She fails.

She hides it well enough from the boys, who snuggle into bed for the annual reading of _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. They look so cute, falling asleep in identical pajamas with a giant moose on the shirt and the words _Oops, I Moosed Up_ written across them.

But after the story is done, Henry sighs, his eyes nearly completely closed, whispering, "Dad said he was going to read that to us this year."

And that is what sets her off.

She makes it downstairs to catch Rose and Roger saying their goodbyes. Rose looks at her with empathy, and rubs her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, dear." She soothes. "I know Robin's…. unfortunately timed illness was quite disappointing."

Regina nods, and swallows down the words that threaten to escape her throat. Because they both know that illness is bullshit.

"I hope things pick up by tomorrow," Rose offers with a kind smile.

And then they are out the door, and it's just her, David, and her seething, undying anger.

.::.

It's about an hour of frantic cleanup and half-hearted gift assembly before David speaks up.

"Just go, Regina."

She looks at him curiously, because she truly isn't sure what he's talking about. Is he asking her to leave the house, the room… have plans changed and now he wants to end things before New Year's…?

"I can tell you are thinking about running over there and talking to him. And I want you to go do it. Talk to Robin. I've got the rest of Christmas Eve handled."

"No, we have to do the stomping on the roof with jingle bells, and we have to finish all this assembly, and…"

"And I can handle it all on my own, Regina. I've been helping you with it for years. Just let me do it." He shrugs, puts his hands in his pockets and says, "One last time. You know how much having a family, children, meant to me. So just let me do this for you. And go talk to him. I just want to see you guys happy."

"I don't think anything I'm planning on saying will make us _happy_ ," she says simply. 'I'm very, very angry at him. He let the kids down. He _hurt_ them. I'm furious."

She should argue with him more, but honestly, his permission is exactly what she needs to hear. And she so wants to go to Robin's and tell him exactly what his childish act has done.

"Then go and let him know how furious you are. Go," David urges, "I've got this."

She kisses him on the cheek and thanks him again before she grabs a few items from the kitchen and runs off, coat and keys in hand.

.::.


	9. Chapter 9

She knows she looks ridiculous, makeup half smeared, half worn off, in god damned flannel pajama pants and a tight red long sleeved shirt covered in a pea coat (too formal, but she wasn't going to hunt out an appropriate coat for pajamas), shivering under Robin's porch light as she knocks. She's still wearing her slippers without any socks, and now she's regretting that choice as her ankles feel every gust of wind.

She knocks and rings the doorbell again.

And yells.

"Robin, open the god damned door, I am not going anywhere. I'll freeze out here before I leave!"

She hears some movement in the house, then, but no light goes on in the bedroom, and she just knows. She hasn't woken him up at all. Coward. He's been downstairs, probably watching television in the family room, hiding from her, hoping she'd run off. She rolls her eyes, hoping he's watching her somewhere, from some darkened window. So she screams again. "I swear to god, Robin Locksley! I will wake all our neighbors, I will stand here and scream at you until a sea of reporters are standing around us, I will—"

The door opens, and two warm hands pull her inside.

He doesn't look sick. His hair is a bit disheveled, and he smells of whiskey and fire. He's wearing pajamas too, just the pair of grey sweats with that cobalt Henley that smelled of him for years after he left.

He looks good. Far, far too good to be ill.

"Calm down, I'm here," he hisses. "It's the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, give me a moment. Now, what do you need? Why are you here?"

She fishes a thermometer out of her coat pocket and waves it in front of his face. "You claim you're sick? Prove it. Show me how sick you are, right now. You're too ill to attend Christmas with your sons? I want to see it. Because the man I know would need a fever of 104 before he _ever_ disappointed his kids that way, and—"

"Okay, okay!" Robin throws his hands up in mock surrender. "Look, I don't have a fever—"

"No _shit_ ," she exclaims. "You hurt Henry and Roland today." She shoves him, two hands against his chest. And he lets her, his hands up in the air, not resisting. "They were devastated." another shove, this time more forceful. "They just got you back and you broke their hearts all over again." She pushes him a final time, harder than she meant to. Hard enough to where he _Oomphs_ and winces at the shove, and good. He deserves it after all. "If you are going to disappoint them like that, and break your promises, at least have the decency to tell a believable lie next time!"

"Enough!" he groans holding onto his stomach and doubling over in pain, "I get it, Regina, please, I get it. I did this _for you_. I skipped out for you and David!"

She laughs, a bitter, sarcastic snarl. "Oh, thank you, Robin, for cancelling last minute so I not only have to deal with yet another Christmas Eve without you, I have to deal with the children asking about you every hour, and hoping you will show up, only to be stood up. God, how rude of me, I should have thanked you for this great gift earlier. Being without you for four straight years wasn't enough was it? She pushes at him once more. "You have to hurt _me_ again too."

They are in the living room, now, thanks to her shoving him back out of the hallway. He wanders in the area further while she takes off her jacket and throws it on the floor.

"Oh, by all means, take off your coat and stay awhile." Robin rolls his eyes and groans. "What more do we have to discuss? You caught me, I'm not sick. Congratulations. Do you want a gold star?"

"I want to know why you think it's okay to abandon us on Christmas. Because the man I knew would _never_ let them down like that! It was a crap thing to do, Robin!"

"Oh for fuck's sake, you know me, Regina, you know I wanted to be there! But the way you described Christmas with David, the best thing I could do was stay away!" He screams back, and she gets the sense he's finally being honest with her. "I know you wanted me to attend, I know you feel responsible for me, that you feel guilty about moving on, but you shouldn't, Regina. You can live your happy life with David. Stop worrying about me."

Well, that's a pile of nonsense. And he isn't going to pin his cancellation on her, on the fact that she's with David. If he's really hurt by that, he should have talked to her sooner, she could have made it clear... She runs her fingers through her hair, lets out an exasperated sigh, and tries to calm herself, starting with "It's not a happy life without you. And I don't worry about you."

She looks at Robin's pout, then anger rises up inside her as she remembers Roland's disappointed face, his little lip similarly jutting out as he yet again asked for his daddy. "But this isn't about us, it's about the children being excited to see their father on Christmas for the first time in... _forever,_ for poor Roland. And you fucked up, Robin. You denied them another Christmas, _again._ How could you be so damn heartless?"

"Because they are happier with you two!" he argues, his face turning red. "Everyone is so happy without me. You four make the _perfect family_ and trust me, I'm happy for you, but I don't want to be treated like I'm a new adopted pet for you and David, someone you are sponsoring for the children. You did a great job without me. And I want you to keep it that way! I don't want to mess up a good thing, Regina. I don't want to make things confusing for you."

She narrows his eyes and stares him down. It doesn't make sense. The man she married would never abandon his children because he thinks his presence is "confusing." Unless someone has put him up to this. He's with some new girl that _Will_ knows, which probably means she's a trashy girl who slept with him right after their first coffee date, and well, Robin's been denied sex for so long he probably mistook lust for love, and is suddenly putting her wishes above his own children's needs.

So she blows out a long breath and raises an eyebrow, snapping, "You know, I know you're with _Sabine_ or whatever her name is. Is that it? Did she tell you that you shouldn't go because I might come on to you or something? Because I'll fucking call her right now, and tell her I'm never going to—"

"I don't fucking care about Sabine!" Robin screams. He throws his head back in frustration, walks towards the living room and falls back on the couch. "This has nothing to do with her, it has to do with me. I don't want to put us in a position where we... feel things. And it's bad enough on a random Thursday. Of course there's going to be more during the holidays."

"So you're afraid I'm going to make the holidays awkward by coming on to you and leaving David in the middle of dinner? For fuck's sake, Robin, we are adults. If I make you uncomfortable, _tell_ me. You know me, I'll stop… I'll stop touching you, or whatever is bothering you. Don't just bail on me _and_ our sons. "

"I'm not bailing on you or our sons!" he cries, and then he wipes his face vigorously with his palm. "And I love when you touch me — too much, and that's the damn problem. I may not have a fever, but every time I thought of joining your family for Christmas Eve I was in real _pain_. For fuck's sake, Regina, isn't it obvious? Every moment I am with you, and we flirt, even just a little, even innocently, all I want to do is grab you and kiss you and haul you upstairs to _our_ bed and beg you to never leave me. But I see how much you care for David, and how much he's done for you and the kids, and how much they love him, and I feel like a selfish asshole. I _love_ you, Regina, and watching you with him is absolute torture and I can't do it again. You moved on, and I know it's your right, but I'm not there, and I don't think I ever can be. I fucking tried to move on like you did, but that's not working. So I'm just going to need some time. You're all I want. I can't just sit through the holidays and promise _I_ will keep my hands and my heart to myself. And that can't happen."

Oh.

She could have guessed as much, but she never really let herself believe it to be true. She replays what he has referenced, the pain he's been in watching her, the fact that he loves her, that he wants to be with her - not for the sake of the children, not out of some contest with David, but for her alone _._

And then she sets her mind on kissing him.

There's residual anger there, under the surface, for not showing up today. But he's here confessing love and lust for her, and god, she wants him too, and she loves him so much it's been breaking her.

And she's so, so tired of not letting him _know_ how much she loves him.

So she groans and mutters _You're an idiot,_ then grabs him by that blue Henley of his and yanks him towards her, crashes her lips against his.

He kisses back, furiously, wrapping an arm so tightly around her she loses her breath. His other hand swoops from the top of her head down to her neck, presses firmly there, anchoring her to him.

Fuck, he's a good kisser. Always has been. This time is no exception, has her skin tingling and her hair standing on end as he gives and gives, his tongue tasting her mouth, moving in that familiar pattern she's missed all these years.

And how the hell did she think she was going to go through life without kissing him again?

She feels him trying to slip away, to back out of it, and perhaps it's a bit desperate, but she leans towards him and holds his head against her, not letting him out of her arms for a few more seconds.

When they break for air, she feels his little chuckle against her cheek (it's wet, again from tears she keeps shedding without even registering they've fallen), and then he's diving back in for seconds, this kiss just as passionate and heady as the last.

.::.

He has absolutely no idea what is going on.

One second she's shoving him (hard, enough to possibly bruise, Regina is not some weak thing, she packs a punch) and the next she's yelling at him, and now she's kissing him.

He should stop, if for no other reason than they can't do this the way he wants to. She's probably going to get this out of her system and end up going to go home, to her fiancé, and that is going to be a straight bullet to the heart.

But he has her for now. And there's something to be said about the fact that she's here, at nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, pressing against him and giving him exactly what he's dreamed about, telling him it's what she wants too. Of course, maybe she's only doing it out of guilt, maybe it's just about comforting him, but in this moment he's far too turned on and in need of her affection to care. She's here, all disheveled in pajamas, no bra (he'd tried very hard not to notice that the second she removed her coat, and failed) and she's shivering in his arms in a way that makes him spark with excitement.

So he's selfish, and drinks her in, drinks every gorgeous inch of her. He's been denied her for so long — truly thought he would be denied forever — that no one could blame him for indulging in her for now, from sampling her mouth, caressing her tongue with his, feeling what it's like to be all wrapped up in her.

His hands grow greedy, sliding down to her ass, thumbs hooking underneath the elastic waistband of the soft flannel and her cotton underwear. He expects her to pull away from that, to swat his hands and tell him that they can't do this, like she had done in that fucking hotel in DC. But she doesn't do that at all, she hums permission into his mouth instead, presses her ass into his hands, and fuck, he's only a man, a very, very sex deprived man who has been lusting over the woman who is eager and passionate in his arms.

"Wanted to do this since I first saw you again," he groans, grabbing a handful of her ass and kneading it, god her ass is incredible, right, toned, lovely. "Thought about it all the time." She moans back a _me too_ that makes him far more excited than he should be at this point.

He probably should have fucked someone by now, probably should have used one of those apps John and Will were talking about, so he at least had _some_ experience, had gotten back on the horse with someone meaningless so he could make a decent showing should he ever get a chance with his wife again.

But it's too late now, because he's still kneading at Regina's backside while she grinds into his very, very hard cock that's jutting out rather obviously in these sweats, and it feels bloody amazing.

"Christ, Regina," he moans, as her hands slide under the hem of his shirt, fingertips scratching lightly up his back the way he loves, hips thrusting in a pattern that's very quickly going to get him off if he doesn't change something.

"I missed you," she sighs, before kissing along his jawline, tongue dragging against sensitive skin, nipping into delicate flesh in a way that makes him shiver.

"I missed you too— _mmf!"_ Her hand slides around his front and grips at his erection, and it feels so damn good his eyes must roll to the back of his head, because he sees black for a second.

"Regina, please, I beg you, slow down." He circles her wrist and stills the movement.

She laughs, probably finds it ridiculous that touching him _over_ clothes could make him this hot, but for fuck's sake, five fucking years.

She releases him from her grasp then, smiling slyly and apologizing. Her hand slides up his arm, her eyes following the movement.

He knows his body is changed, that it's thinner, less muscular, with new scars to remind them both of the lost time. But Regina is exactly how he remembered her.

She is especially beautiful now. She always is, but in three months he hasn't seen her in casual clothes that she would wear to bed. She's been dressing up for him, he realizes that now. But he misses _this_ Regina, the one who'd put her hair in a messy ponytail, slap on a long sleeve tee and some baggy pants and lay next to him in bed.

She's in a long sleeved red shirt now, tight enough so he can see how hard her nipples are (he's missed _them_ too), her eye makeup is a bit smudged - just enough to make her look somehow sexier, lips free of any makeup, bare and beautiful, her hair out of place, windswept, it looks. He's dreamed of her coming over to his house late at night and begging for a good fuck, telling him she will never leave him again, and this is close enough to his fantasies to have him over excited.

He wants her, perhaps more than he's ever wanted her in his damn life (and that is a _lot_ ).

"Do you have any idea…" he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "how fucking sexy you look right now?"

She laughs and rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "I'm a mess." He worries for a second she will go self-conscious on him, but she doesn't, she kisses him instead, and when she grabs a palm full of _his_ ass he decides he may as well go for it.

He grabs at the hem of her shirt, tugs it up just a bit, and she's absolutely adorable, she nods her head hard, breaks the kiss to raise her arms up to help him take it off her.

He takes it off in one fluid movement and then… the sight of her topless has his breath whooshing out of him. She's… fucking gorgeous. More beautiful than he remembered, and he would regularly remember her as the most gorgeous woman on the planet.

"Christ," he says, and he knows he looks like a bloody school boy who has never seen tits before, but right now he's unable to think straight, let alone keep up appearances. He lets his hand coast down from her neck to her navel, unable to resist cupping one breast and thumbing the nipple as he goes, but it's mostly a reverent touch at first. Just to make sure she's real.

She's sensitive, sucking in a breath and tilting her body towards his as he touches her.

"I've dreamt of these for years," he moans, drawing both hands up and under the swells of her breasts. He catches each hardened nipple between a thumb and index finger, pinching and tweaking as he fondles shamelessly.

She lets loose this sound, this throaty _Ga-oh!_ that goes straight to his cock, makes him wonder why they didn't just give into temptation earlier, she sounds just as worked up and needy as he is.

"Dreamt of you, too," she says in panting, labored breath. "Love the way you touch— _oh god! —_ you always know what I need."

He's kissing at her neck and chest now, the way he once did. He loves the feel of her, the taste of her, the way little goosebumps rise on the flesh he licks and sucks.

"I missed you," she breathes again, gripping at his cock. He can't control himself, throwing his head back and spilling curses at the ceiling. "I missed _this."_

He's going to tell her to stop, to let him take his time with her, but she is peeling off his shirt, planting kisses on his bare chest, and she wants it so bad it turns him on even further, has him twitching and wanting her even more.

She drops down his sweats and boxers as she kneels to the ground. His cock is pulled down with it, then thwacked back up in a way that might be comical, were it any other time. But this time she's looking at him with a _hunger_ in her eyes, gripping him snuggly and shutting her eyes as she gives him a very slow, very deliberate stroke.

And then her mouth is on him and he almost loses his ability to stand.

"Oh, fuck!"

It's not like she ever complained about giving blow jobs, but he can't imagine it was a thing she particularly missed, though the way she hums as she takes him in, she could have fooled him.

Her tongue slides down the back of him as she takes him down her throat. There's a gentle, sucking pressure he's missed, so, so much, has him feeling dizzy and feverish, knees locking, has him steadying himself by gripping her shoulders. She sucks him as she draws him out of her mouth, slowly, torturously, oh, god, he's going to embarrass himself.

"Regina, I won't last," he pants. "Five years, darling. I've been without— wanted this, so much, thought about it, but never had it, I won't make it."

She releases him with a wet pop, smiles, and god, she's a vision there, her hand on his cock, smiling up with him so innocently. "It's okay," she purrs, but no, it is not.

"No, you've no idea how long and how often I've thought of this with you — _oh,_ Christ in heaven, like that!" he gasps, as her tongue swirls around the head and she dives back down again. He feels her chuckle, but her mouth is full of him, the vibrations only set him off more.

He loses his balance, enough to have to stumble and hold on to the arm of the couch, and then she releases him with a devilish smirk and sighs.

She may think it's funny but he's too far gone for laughs, urges her to her feet and pulls her into another kiss.

"My turn," he nearly growls, before nipping at her lower lip.

She protests a bit when she catches to his intention, cries out something along the lines of _No, this is for you_ but does she remember him at all? When the fuck has eating her out not been an activity he's loved all on its own?

So he says so, breathes, "this _is_ for me, trust me, darling."

And then he is the one drawing her pajamas off, some red underwear coming down with them, because turnabout is fair play.

There's not much light in this room, but there's enough to show she's _glistening_ there. Fuck, she's beautiful and so, so wet for him.

"Gorgeous," he says to her in earnest, looking up at her while she looks down at him, a hand running through his hair.

He presses a kiss to her belly button, starts to work his way down. Her body is different here, skin a bit softer, as to be expected, she's had a child. There's thin little lines of indentation around her hips, stretch marks, he thinks, faded but still there, and oddly sexy, he didn't think they would be, but they frame her body beautifully, so he draws his tongue down over one of the more pronounced ones, that makes her squirm, but smile.

Then, he notices a thin scar centered right between her hip bones, nearly invisible, but he knows her body, remembers it well, and this was not there before.

He licks and kisses it, hearing her chuckle.

"C-section scar, sorry, I— I know it's a bit… distracting."

He hadn't known Roland's birth was by cesarean section, but no one had ever really told him the specifics of the birth. He's hit with a punch of affection, love, gratefulness for her.

"It is beautiful," he insists, and her doubting laugh has him reiterating. "It _is._ And it's a reminder of how strong you are, better than any tattoo of Roland's initials." He presses a kiss to it again. "I love it. Love your body, always. Love it now, even more."

Her eyes look wet and awestruck as she cups his cheek and strokes it lovingly, and everything goes soft and still for just a moment, the mood shifting to something much more intimate.

Then she grips the back of his head with her palms and presses him into her, saying "Please." And right, no time to be wasting.

Years ago, he might have teased her for a bit, might have worked her up, kissed up her thighs and licked between her folds, but he's starving for her, and she's so turned on, her clit visible and hard, sex flush with her own arousal.

So he plants a sucking kiss on her clit that makes her gasp, and tries to remember what she likes, firm, steady licks against her have her gasping and trembling, bracing herself against his shoulders like he had needed. He chuckles and sucks at her with a bit more gusto, and she cries out, back arching before she flings forward and braces her palms on his head, shoving him hard against her.

Well then.

"So good," Regina gasps, "Missed this so much, you — _mm_! — missed your mouth."

He lets himself think of David now, only for a second, to think about how David must be awful in the sack, because she's a quivering mess over a few passes of his tongue.

And she's dripping, absolutely dripping. He tests then, more for himself than for her, laps up her arousal greedily, moaning at the taste he's missed for years.

"Oh, fucking hell, Regina, you taste…"

"Yes?" her voice comes out weak and shaky, surely not what she intended, but he finishes his thought for her anyway.

"Delicious. Incredible. Mouthwatering. Could spend the rest of my life here." His words make her moan before his tongue does, before he can press those quick little licks to her hard little nub.

She starts to writhe, starts to rock into his mouth, her familiar scent and taste is all around him, finally, after so long, thank god.

Fuck, this is not helping in the boner department at all, he's stiff already, throbbing, even. Fuck she tastes so good, feels so good…

He's moaning into her sex, eating at her fervently, and she's so damn soaked it just makes him want more. He dips his tongue inside her and god, he shouldn't have done that, her insides are _hot_ and slick and fuck, she's tight, and clenches around him, shit…

He moves his mouth back to her clit and replaces his tongue with two fingers that sink right into her slippery warmth, and then he's _really_ lost to her, when she pulses around him he actually _shivers._ Fuck, he has to keep it together, he really hopes he's able to be inside her, he wants to feel this, all of this, and god, if he lasts long enough (doubtful) to feel the familiar spasms of her orgasm around his cock, well, that would be perfect.

Her body is just a little different, he can feel it inside her, despite the fact she's not given birth traditionally, that seems to be true. Maybe he's forgotten the exact angle she likes, but it takes a bit of test strokes, a bit of shifting for him to find it again. He draws one leg over his shoulder, and slants his fingers in a way that has her crying out a little _Oh!_ And then he hits that same spot again, going slower at first, and then picking up speed slowly. She _really_ starts thrusting into him, fucking his hand as she moans and lets out a little _God, yes,_ _like that!_

She's tugging at his hair, holding him tightly against her, and he's never felt more alive than in this moment.

"Mm— Robin, I…." that leg around his shoulder tenses, muscles gripping him tightly, and then she loses _her_ balance, bending forward and gripping his head, squeaking a bit as she rights herself. He's too intent on his task to tease her about it, just continues working her up, but she asks "Can you — _mmm_ — can you finish me on the couch?"

He looks up and her and smiles. "Of course, darling. And then he thinks of their mutual difficulty standing and asks, "Not so easy, is it?"

She rolls her eyes playfully and separates herself from him long enough to lie down on the couch, stretching out with a little sigh.

She looks gorgeous like this, spreading herself out for him to feast on, totally giving herself to him. God, he loves her so much.

He kneels beside the couch and grabs at her legs, angling them half off so his head is between them, and then he gives her swollen clit a firm, long suck, and she bucks into him.

"You — you used to—- _mm_! There were little licks, and they were quick, and—"

He chuckles into her sex and changes it to what she's talking about, feeling a sense of pride that she's still able to recall how he ate her, years later.

So he gives her the feathery, rapid, firm presses of his tongue, lets his fingers press against her entrance again until she asks for it, a breathy _Please! Back inside!_

This time he gets the angle right away, has her crying out, a desperate _Don't stop!_ Before she starts babbling incoherently, random words strung together amidst moans of pleasure.

"Wanted this for so lo—ahh! —onng! You're the, _fuck,_ so good, so good, just like that, don't sto— _mm_! Please don't stop, I—"

He feels the familiar contractions around his fingers, she's coming soon, and normally he'd be sucking on her clit now, but she wanted these little rapid licks, specifically requested them, so he keeps them up.

"Robin, you're so good, so good, I'm gonna—!" It's only a few more thrusts of his fingers before she falls over that edge with a long shout of his name. It feels like a good orgasm, from the way her sex contracts around his fingers, clenching tightly, then releasing, in unpatterned, spastic moments. And the rest of her does the same, she loses those rhythmic thrusts of her hips, rocking wildly into him. He tries to hold her steady, drapes a hand over her abdomen to do so. But he doesn't stop eating her, and definitely does not stop fucking her with his fingers. He's determined to feel every last bit of her pleasure, soak it all in, and god if this is the last time — if she regrets this, if she goes back home to David at the end of the night, he better make this last as long as he can.

"I love you," she whispers, in a shaky breath after a few moments of riding out her orgasm. Those little spasms are less forceful now, lighter, but still feel amazing, still have his cock aching for her, but saying she loves him, that hits his whole body, sets every nerve on fire. And who would have thought such a pure statement would have his libido go into overdrive?

"Love you, too," he returns. "So, so much." And then he's back to licking at her, until she hears him squeak on a certain pass of his tongue, feels her hands shoving him back, and fine. He'll give her a moment to recover.

He takes a moment to just stare at her. She looks so relaxed, so satisfied. He strokes up her thighs, to her navel, and she giggles a bit, goosebumps flaring. She's ticklish now, it appears.

"You have no idea how much I missed that," she chuckles, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh, I think I have an idea," he returns. "I missed it too."

"Mm, you missed going down on me?" she says, as if it's laughable.

"God, yes," he answers quickly. And then there's that voice in the back of his head he's been trying to ignore, so he can't help but ask, "Was it, uh, good like it was before? I know things have changed and I'm…" Well he's been starved of human companionship and definitely starved of sex for years, and he could hear and feel her come, but he fears it still might be one of his lesser performances, and god, does he not want to disappoint her, and his need to be better than David is almost overwhelming. "I'm rusty, I know, but before, I know you loved it, and—"

She bites her lip and knows what he's searching for, it seems, so she nods. "I loved it. It hasn't been that good since… the last time we were together. Not even close."

He doesn't fight the cheesy grin that's now on his face. _Good._

She sits up on the couch then, ducking down to kiss him and whispers, "There are other things I missed."

He forgets how to breathe for a second.

"God, me too," he says in this throaty voice that makes it clear just how true that statement is.

She kisses him again, this time deep and with tongue, moaning at the taste of him. And then he suddenly wants her, very badly, right now, in _their_ bed. On the bed they shared for years, he wants to make it theirs again.

So he rises to his feet and then bends down to scoop her into his arms. She gets the picture, wraps her limbs around him tightly.

"Bedroom," he explains, and she nods and whispers _Please_ , which is ridiculous, she doesn't have to ask for it, he is _dying_ for this.

She's tiny, Regina is, light as a feather, especially the way she's wrapped around him, but he's still a bit weak from the past five years, and walking up the stairs with a throbbing erection and a person in his arms proves a bit more challenging than he had anticipated.

But he's wanted this for so long, the need submerses him, he hits the light switch to the bedroom with his elbow, and then he's throwing her down on the bed with a grunt. He's a bit breathless, but he probably would have been anyway, looking at her, on their unmade bed, her eyes all hooded and dark, looking like she can hardly wait.

"You look amazing right now," he says, still catching his breath.

"Come here," she urges. He tries not to be too eager when he climbs over her, but, well, it's been a long time, and she's so gorgeous he can't think straight. Her legs part, and he settles his between hers, elbows on either side of her as he leans into kiss her. He's right lined up with her, can feel her, wet and warm against his shaft, rocking against him, fuck, he needs to be inside her. And it seems very much like she wants that but seeing as their relationship is a bit undefined at the moment, he really needs to make sure he can have her.

"Christ, Regina…" he gasps. "I want—"

"Fuck me," she gasps, "Please, Robin, I want you so bad."

He groans and kisses her again, then shifts back onto his knees, between her thighs.

She has great legs. Really, really great legs. Toned and thin, shapely, delicate, but strong. He takes one thigh in his hand and lifts it up, straight into the air, kissing her calf, then her knee, before hooking it behind his shoulder.

She's eager, very much so, because she moves the other leg onto his opposite shoulder herself, already moaning, and thank fuck he isn't the only one who is incredibly worked up right now, he might just last long enough to make her come.

He takes his cock in his hand (fuck, he's close, hard, throbbing) and lines himself up with her, holding his breath as he thrusts inside the love of his life for the first time in nearly five years.

Oh, fucking Christ, she feels good. Too good, much too good, how is it this perfect?

He thought he had been prepared for how amazing it would feel when he fingered her, thought he had readied his mind for what it would be like, but he had been wrong. She is warm, and wet, and so, so tight, he slides in easily, and she stretches to fit around him perfectly, and while he's sliding in her whole body reacts, her back arches, body rolls and responds to the pleasure in a rolling wave.

She moans loudly, throaty and wanton, head slamming back on the pillow hard, a little stray feather floating up from it. She looks like a fucking angel like this, he's not sure how she manages to look so pure when she's writhing in pleasure, but something always seems right and beautiful when they are together like this.

"Fuck you're— mm! —you're big," she moans as he starts thrusting in her, slowly at first. He's not, not particularly, but he's thick enough, and given how tight she is, and how she's responding to him, he's clearly more than she's been used to, thank god.

"You're so perfect," he grunts, "so, so wet, tight, god, I missed you, you've no idea, darling…"

She sighs and bites her lip, closes her eyes at a particular thrust, and it short circuits him, has him giving into the feel of her despite the fact he's been trying to hold back. She's pulsing around his cock, god, the feel of her is indescribable. Like she's made for him. Every thrust inside her is a new jolt of pleasure that zings inside him, driving him closer — too close to release.

He remembers how it feels, how she shakes and trembles when she comes, he needs to see that again, he needs to last.

And then she palms at his ass, urging him to thrust faster, and he feels he's about to explode.

"God, love, sorry — I'm sorry, I'm going to— too close, I can't, I—"

" _Mm_ good, I want to feel it, just want you to feel good — _oh fuck_!" Her body betrays her in a particular thrust, has her rocking into him in that way he knows means she really wants a release, and he's going to give it to her.

It takes a lot of willpower, but he slides out of her, slides back on his knees, and replaces his cock with his fingers, setting the frantic, hurried pace she wants.

"Oh _my god! Robb-inn!"_

He was so close before that his cock now aches, the pain enough to knock the wind out of him, but he's not focusing on it anymore because she's all blissed out and gorgeous, throwing her head back in ecstasy, taking what he's giving her, enjoying it, god, he's missed her, missed how sexual she is, how passionate she is, how bold she is when seeking her own pleasure.

And speaking of her pleasure, he uses his free hand to rub at her clit (it's so pronounced now, she's so turned on and it's beautiful). She jumps at the touch and mutters an _Oh, god, yes!_ Her hips are rocking and circling into his hand, she's growing wetter, fuck, wetter, god—

" _Mm_ — fuck that's good, I'm... I want your cock," she moans, "so close, want to come with you inside me. Wanted that for so long, please, Robin."

The situation isn't much better than being inside her. Watching her right now has his cock twitching and pulsing, but she's close, and he needs her so, so badly.

So he moves his hands away, draws one thigh up and rests her ankle on his shoulder. He'll fuck her while he's on his knees, it's a position she likes and it's not as comfortable for him, so maybe he can last. Maybe, just maybe. He bites his lip and pushes back inside her. Everything buzzes and churns, but Regina isn't faring much better, she gasps, and now she's letting loose a string of curses and playing with her own nipple (he'd do that for her, but he's a second from blowing, and touching her perfect tits isn't going help matters).

"Are you close?" he rasps, almost begs. She has to understand, five years, five lonely years without the touch of a woman, without getting to _see_ one most of the time, and now he's on sensory overdrive.

His heart is beating loud in his chest, out of desire, love, lust, fuck he's fucking close, dangerously so. He needs to draw this out, just a bit longer.

"So close," she moans, "So close, you're so… god you're so thick, you fill me up, perfect, god, feels so, so good."

"Tell me, _mm!_ " He rubbing at her clit in those circles she likes, and she's starting to pulse around him, and he's close too, but he's going to make it, he hopes. "Tell me it feels better with me."

Maybe it's petty and a bit pathetic but he needs to hear it, he needs to hear that David, for all his skills around the house, all the skill he has constructing and drawing and designing is not what she craves at night, and that Robin can satisfy a need David never could.

"So much better," she gasps and god, that's a relief to hear - true or not, he'll be revisiting those words over and over in his mind. "Please don't stop, you're so good, I'm going to come so hard, _hnnghh_ ! Haven't felt like this in so—ohh! I'm— I'm — _Robin_!"

Oh god, he's glad for this position, because he can watch her come, and it's bloody wonderful, it's pure sex the way she thrashes her head from side to side, the way she screams his name, he can see the release going through her, the way her belly clenches and tightens.

And fuck, she's squeezing around him, she feels so good when she comes, he's not sure how he lasted so long without feeling _this,_ velvet walls convulsing all around him, as she cries out in pleasure, he thinks he lasts until the second or the third spasm before it sends _him_ over the edge, before the throbbing and the aching finally dissipates, and he feels those familiar, electric pulses of pleasure zing through him.

Fuck, the release of finally — finally getting to come inside a woman — _his_ woman — after so long, is indescribable. It's pure euphoria and he feels it in every cell of his body, all at once. She's warm and wet and milking him for all he's worth, massaging him as he comes and comes. His head goes light, and he feels dizzy, feels goosebumps flaring his neck as he has that familiar feeling of weightlessness, and then the last pulse of pleasure flows through him, and he falls on the bed next to her. Boneless and spent and feeling complete for the first time in years.

.::.

"That was… god, it was..." she's still struggling to catch her breath, trying to find the words to express how it felt being with him after all this time. But she can't, so she settles on "Really, really good."

What an understatement. It wasn't just _good,_ she's had good sex. This was fucking fantastic, can't remember it feeling any better. She can't feel her legs, she's still lightheaded.

"We _are_ quite good at that," he chuckles.

"We are _the best_ at that," she quickly corrects. His smile goes wide then, and he looks all proud and almost cocky. And you know what? Good. He's earned it.

She meant what she said, though. It's one reason why she has wanted this so badly and for so long. She always imagined, if she had an opportunity to be with him again, it would be her taking care of his needs, giving him as much pleasure as possible, because god knows he went through something awful and deserves to feel as wonderful as possible.

So when he told her loved her, that's what she was setting her mind to do, to give him everything she could.

But then he touched her, she had a taste and realized how starved she was for him, and was unable to control her appetite, filling herself up on every ounce of pleasure he gave her.

She should probably feel selfish, but it's hard to feel anything but pure delight when endorphins are running this high.

That orgasm hit her so hard that it's still coursing through her veins, her body still trembling from little aftershocks of pleasure. She hadn't ever really _forgotten_ how good he is at this, she remembers that — very well, in fact. She's thought about it, and him, more times than she likes to admit, often while touching herself, but it's so, so much better than she remembered, her release much more intense than any she had given herself.

The best part is he's lying next to her, his breath coming out in these warm puffs against her ear, nuzzling in close to her, and alive. They lay there for a bit, until he gets up without a word. She frowns, and for a second wonders if he regretted something, if all of this is fading away.

But he's back with a warm washcloth, pecking her cheek as he cares for her, cleans between her legs. It's an aftersex ritual of sorts he's clearly remembered, and it makes her weak.

When he's through and puts the cloth away, he sinks back into the mattress and lays next to her. She hears his breath, still a bit labored, still obviously coming down from his high.

"So…" he draws out after a few moments of just cuddling with her, "What happens next?"

The question first confuses her, and then worries her. He hasn't really said what he wants of her, has he?

So instead of answering she asks, "What do you mean?"

He sighs, the hand around her middle clings a little tighter as his voice goes soft and sad.

"I mean… we didn't really talk about what _this_ was, was it just…" he trails off, not able to finish, so she turns on her side to face him, cup his cheek and asks _Just what?_

"I just mean… David." he explains, and ohhh, that's right, she hadn't told him. "Don't you, um, have to go back to him? Do I need to…" he swallows heavy and says, "lie about your whereabouts, or—"

Regina shakes her head vigorously, swipes her hands through his hair in a soothing, slow stroke. "Robin I would never do that to you. I don't have to go back to David. We broke up." She pauses then to claim his lips in another soft peck. He's still too stunned to process, his jaw nearly drops at the statement. He looks adorable like this, in a state of disbelief.

"But — what? When? You didn't _just_ break up, or have a fight, did you?" He looks worried. "I'll feel like an utter arse… I don't want to have done this with you if you were emotionally compromised."

God, this man, just when she thinks she can't love him anymore.

She shakes her head and bites back a laugh. "No, babe. It happened not too long after Thanksgiving. We aren't supposed to tell anyone until after the holidays; it's best for the boys. David ended it. God knows I should have months ago, probably the moment you came back and I realized how much I felt for you, but… I was a coward. So he brought it up. He's in love with someone else, too. Mary Margaret."

Robin's obviously elated, a smile spreading across his face so wide she can't help but laugh, and then he repeats, "Mary _Margaret_? The _neighbor girl?_ How old is she?"

God, it feels good to just _talk_ to him again. Share secrets in the dark with the man she loves. She missed this, so much. "She's actually 28, though she seems to act younger, doesn't she?"

Robin snickers. "She… wears these little bird shaped clips in her hair and says stuff like 'Oh fudge' and 'Son of a biscuit'. _That_ is who David fell in love with?" He looks at Regina adoringly and runs his fingers through her hair. "Not that I'm complaining about his choice as it works out wonderfully for me… but that is _quite_ a downgrade in my book."

Regina tries not to flush red at the slight compliment, she really does, but her cheeks heat and she's not able to stop herself from smiling. "I hope it works out. Actually… I can see them together."

He still looks confused though, clears his throat and says, "Honestly, I'm not sure I understand. You two looked so incredibly happy during Thanksgiving, I could hardly bear to watch, I wished I could be happy for you, but…"

"We weren't happy during Thanksgiving." Regina chuckles. "The moment you came back I think it highlighted everything that didn't quite fit, or work… and we just… became good friends. It's all we were ever supposed to be."

Robin pauses to contemplate her words, and she can see him running back the moments in his mind, trying to reconcile her words with what he saw. And then he huffs, and shrugs his shoulders.

"It looked like so much more," Robin whispers, his expression pained and tortured, fuck, he was hurting for so long over this. And he had such a wrong idea of all of it. She should have explained things sooner, should have gotten over her guilt and feelings of loyalty to David much, much sooner.

"I haven't slept with David since the moment you came back," Regina admits. Robin smiles like a little kid on his birthday, and her heart swells. God, she loves making him happy. So she continues, nuzzling into his neck nad planting a kiss there before drawing back and finishing her thought. "It didn't feel right. We talked about it before Thanksgiving. He said he wouldn't try to make things physical, that we could just drop that part of our relationship for a while… things were better then. That's why they looked good for Thanksgiving. We got along well without the pressure of being more than friends. I never stopped loving you - not just loving, being _in_ love. David was comfortable. Soothing. It could have been a nice enough life, but we didn't have the kind of love that you and I have. I didn't care, because I thought that wasn't something I could feel again. I never searched for it. I love David. He was my savior, and such a good man to the boys. But we weren't… in love. I see that now."

Robin still looks awestruck, and a bit confused. Again there is silence, until he manages to ask, slowly, with great reverence, "So… that's it? You're leaving him? For sure?"

She nods, amending, "We are leaving _each other._ But… he's still a part of Henry and Roland's lives. He was there to drive me to the hospital when I almost lost Roland. And there to drop by and remind me to eat and drink after I got sick, he was there to listen and hold me as I cried over you… he's a good man. I can't just not have him in my life. It wouldn't be fair or right. And the children, he's still their Uncle David."

"Of course," Robin mutters, grasping at her hand. "I'm still going to be jealous of him. But he helped you all, and I'm grateful for him, too."

She snuggles into him and sighs, thanking whatever force it was that gave her, him, this second chance to have a happy ending.

.::.

It's a bit surreal, finding out she's left David. Everything he's forced himself to come to terms with has been a lie, a misinterpretation. And now things are standing on end, tipping over, and he's seeing every past interaction in a new way, and it's still… confusing. But also wonderful. Miraculous. Everything he's wanted.

Well, he wants more. He wants her home. He wants her and Henry and Roland to grab everything she can carry from David's and move in here with him, on Christmas morning. He wants everything all at once, and he knows that's… maybe a bit too soon. Maybe they need time to pack. But she should be moving in with him, right? This is her house, she owns it, and she's in love with him, and he may have things to work on, but they can get through them together.

But she hasn't yet told him her plan, so he asks, his heart in this throat. "Um, were you planning on… moving out soon?"

Regina hums and starts planting these tantalizing little kisses on his neck, down to his chest, swirling her tongue with every press of her lips, and it's suddenly very hard to concentrate on anything than the swell of lust rising up in him. He's definitely not through with her.

"We're moving out January 15th." There's a moment where he's confused on the date, and then she crosses her arms and rests her chin on her hands "I, uh, found a place for now, a little townhome closer to the city. I just have to sign the lease."

He can't help the look of confusion that falls over his face. Her place is here, it always has been. "Why… would you look to stay somewhere else? Why not here?"

She presses a kiss to space between his pectoral muscles and sighs. "We weren't together."

But that's not entirely honest. Because even if they weren't a couple, they have four bedrooms and there was more than enough space for Regina, Henry and Roland. "Doesn't matter. Even if we weren't, you know I'd love you and the kids here. We love one another. You could have asked - you know you could have. Do you not trust me around them all the time, or you — did I do something?" Because he knows he has been through a trauma, he knows psychiatrists are telling him and her to look for episodes of violence, losing his temper or sense of reality — but he's been good, he's handled things better than everyone expected. And he's never resorted to any violence - would never hurt his children.

And Regina seems to know that, because she strokes his cheek and says "No, I trust you, completely. That's not it. I was afraid to ask." Her eyelashes flutter and she looks down. "I hurt you, and I know you forgive me, and I know you don't blame me, but that doesn't change the fact that I still caused you pain. And I'd understand if you didn't want to jump back into things with me. Plus… you were dating. I didn't want to impose. And I didn't want to have to see you… bring a woman home." She laughs bitterly. "I know, given the situation with David, it's unfair to say that."

"It's not," he assures, reminding her, "you offered to let me stay under the same roof as our children, I should have done it for them, maybe, but I couldn't bear seeing much of you together." His hands are wandering all over her body now, tracing her curves, pausing to cup the swells of her ass. "Plus, if I was staying in David's home I might have felt bad about constantly trying to seduce you."

She laughs at that, rolls her eyes and plants a kiss a bit lower, past his chest to his abdomen. "No, you wouldn't have."

But the mood has shifted to something charged and intimate, and her tongue draws along his skin in a very deliberate way. Goosebumps flare and he can't help but bite back a little groan. He's already half hard, already wants her again.

"Probably not," he sighs, "but I might have felt awkward jerking off thinking about you while you were down the hall."

He hears her snicker into his torso, gives him another firm lick that actually makes him tremble.

"You wouldn't have been alone in that," she admits, looking up at him with a knowing little smirk.

And the image of her getting off at all — let alone to him— has him standing at full attention.

"Move in with me," he groans. It certainly doesn't fit the mood, to go there, when she's very clearly working her way down his body, but he wants her so badly to stay in his bed forever. "Now. Tomorrow. Whenever you can, just please tell me you'll stay with me."

She shifts and shimmies half up his body, looking truly touched, and a bit forlorn. There's something on her mind, and it's obviously serious, and no, that can't be a good thing, can it? He opens his mouth to apologize for asking so much of her tonight, but she speaks first.

"Promise me you won't leave me again."

Shit, he's been wallowing in his own hurt for so long he forgot how hurt _she_ was.

"I know you have your dreams, I know you hate playing it safe, I know you're brilliant and so much better than working for local access news in Philadelphia, but I can't go through that again." Her voice breaks a bit at the end, just enough to where he _knows_ she has been holding this request in for some time, and that there's a lot of heartache and emotion behind it, that it comes with a history he hasn't yet been told.

So he runs his fingers through her hair, scratches her scalp in that way he knows she likes, the soothing, comforting rhythm she all but melts into. And then he says softly, "Come here, darling. Lie next to me. I want to say this while I hold you."

She crawls up and flops down on her side facing him. She looks anxious, biting her bottom lip hard and avoiding his eyes. He loops an arm around her waist and uses the other to reach up and stroke her cheek. Touch has always worked for Regina, always communicated a bit more than words. So he hopes this expresses his sincerity, his devotion to her, if words fail to do so.

He sighs, collecting his thoughts. "I am telling you now, I'm done with all of that. I'm done with taking risks on my own. I'm done with spending weeks or months at a time away from you in _any_ capacity. Not because I'm afraid of losing you, but because I don't want to spend any more of my life away from you. From now on, every risk I take will be _with_ you, not alone."

She blinks away the tears in her eyes and tries to sound stern when she says "Good," but it sounds a bit choked and grateful. "Because I have a lifetime of memories I am planning on making with you." She presses a kiss to his lips and says, "You really want us to move in?"

Robin shifts to lay on his back, throws his head back and grins, rolling his eyes playfully. "Desperately. I want the kids here every day, absolutely. To be there for every nightmare, every bad cold that has them keeping us up all night, every tantrum or fight — I miss all the bad stuff as much as the good moments, Regina. And as much as I want the children to live with me…" he reaches down, threads his fingers with hers, then draws their joined hands to his lips, planting feathery kisses to her knuckles. "I think I want you living here _more_. You have let them stay overnight, but I don't get to wind down my day with _you._ And I miss that. I miss cleaning up and chatting with you, talking in bed until we fall asleep. I just love being around you, all the time. I hate having to say goodbye to you every night. I miss having you here with me."

He pauses for a second, looks down at her naked form and waggles his eyebrows. "Of course, I miss doing _this_ with you more than is polite to admit, it's…." he tries to search for the right words, but there are none to explain what it's like being inside her, intimate with her, feeling so lucky that she trusts and loves him so much. He can't find a way to describe how much he appreciates that she opened herself to him in that that way, all intimate and soft and vulnerable. "You are incredible, I… don't think many men can say they have been able to sleep with the most beautiful woman they've ever seen. So… I'm glad I got to do it again."

She snorts and rolls her eyes, but she's pressing against his body tightly, arms draping around his chest, and she bends down to press a kiss to his upper arm. It's soft and innocent, but it's still being touched by Regina's mouth, and he is hungry for her. He lets out a stuttering, shaky breath and tries to compose himself.

But she shoots him a knowing look, a devilish little smirk, and strokes down his torso to touch an erection that's only partially deflated, raising her eyebrows as she takes him in her hand.

"It's been awhile..." he explains shrugging his shoulders. "Intense conversation or not, you're lying next to me without a shred of clothing on. I'm weak for you."

"Mmm," she considers. "Well, I guess that's something I'll have to keep in mind when I move in."

"You are, then? Moving in?" She gives him an excited nod, and that's it. He knows he looks like a goofy teenager when he smiles this big, knows but cannot stop from making that face as he realizes he gets her forever, now.

She smiles just as big, and when he squeezes her tight and kisses her forehead she whispers a soft, "Stop, you're going to make me cry," that sends his heart into overdrive.

"I get you every night soon," he whispers, as if trying to make it sink in, trying to make it real.

"Every night," she repeats. She's straddling one of his legs now, rocking into it. "I get to have my way with you." Her hand reaches down, around his cock, and strokes lightly, and he loses his breath again. "It _has_ been awhile, hasn't it?" she asks smugly as she works him up with her palm.

"Too long," he groans, rocking into her touch. "God, I love the way you feel."

"Me, too." Her voice is husky now, deep with lust and desire, and suddenly all thoughts fly out of his mind besides the feel of her, the taste of her, the way she looks when she comes.

She slides down his body, situating herself between his legs (he lets out a thick groan at what's to come, and it would be embarrassing if it didn't seem to make her happy).

"Now," she says, her mouth inches away from where he wants her, "I believe I was in the middle of something before I was interrupted."

"Mm," he agrees, his hips arch up on instinct, "how rude of me." She doesn't know how badly he wants this, how often he had pictured it, tried to remember what she looks like, what it feels like…

If she did she wouldn't be so cavalier about this, as if it were nothing, when it's quite possibly one of the best things imaginable.

She puts her lips around him, and he lets out an indulgent _Ohh fuckk_ at the feel of those soft wet lips and that skillful tongue. He had only had a taste of this before — he wanted her too badly, was too close, and wanted to be joined with her in an intimate way before he popped off. But now he's done that, and they are each other's again, and he's got a bit more stamina, so each pass of her tongue just feels like heaven, without the pang and anxiety of having to hold out.

She's so damn good with her mouth, always has been, she starts with a hard suck as she takes him all in, her tongue wrapped around that vein on the back of his cock. She swirls her tongue on the way up, paying particular attention to his sensitive tip, and then she takes him out of her mouth to lick down from tip to— oh god, to give his balls a firm laving.

"God, fuck, like that… just like that," he moans, "Christ, I love that so much." She sucks each ball a little while stroking him with her hand firmly, and the tingling, tugging pleasure has him crying out her name and nearly lifting off the bed.

She switches her hand and her mouth, begins to bob on his cock while her hands fondle down below. And that feels amazing, too, feeling her cupping them as she licks and sucks, bobbing at a quickening pace, taking him more deeply each time. When the tip of him hits the back of her throat, he can't help but let out an _OhfuckingChrist, Regina_ , but she keeps up, taking him down her throat, varying firm sucks with those swirling licks that have him dizzy with need.

He starts to reach _that_ point, where he's over sensitive and each touch skyrockets him up to that peak, and it won't be long now. And as much as he wants to finish in her mouth, to feel her swallow and suck as he comes, he finds he wants other things even _more._

"Darling, please, I, _god that feels good_ \- I want you again, I want— please, lie down, let me…"

She looks up from her task with sultry eyes and upturned lips and asks, "Something wrong? I thought you _liked_ coming this way."

"I love it," he groans, "I just want..." — he pulls her up towards him, and she goes willingly, lies on her back beside him with a little squeak — "...I want to worship you a little, and then I want to be inside you again, and again, and probably at least once more."

She giggles at that. He can't resist covering both her breasts with his tongue, nibbling on the hardened peaks, reveling in the throaty little sounds she makes as he makes his way down her body. But when he swirls his tongue around her bellybutton, she suddenly goes straight and tense, grabbing him by the shoulders letting out a nervous, "Robin…"

"Mm?" he says, situating himself between her legs.

"That might not be… good, considering what we just did."

He knows what she means. He came inside her already, and though he may have wiped her down, he came _deeply_ , and quite a bit.

But he couldn't care less about that at this moment, when he's between her legs, and she's all wet and gorgeous for him. He swipes his tongue through her folds, a firm, slow lick, looks up and tells her plainly, "Tastes delicious. I promise."

And it truly does. Perhaps he wouldn't enjoy it so much at another time, but right now, at this moment, the faint trace of him mixed in her only turns him on further, reminds him that she is his.

She's turned on, but clearly off her game, and he knows post-sex oral something they usually do, probably not something a lot of men do, but he's determined to get the mood back. So he soothes her as best he can, muttering, "God, Regina, you've no idea how much I missed this, love this so much. You're so wet, so beautiful from this angle." he presses a kiss to her inner thigh, and she sighs, something in her stretches and relaxes, "Love watching you enjoy—" (she moans) "Yes, darling, please…"

.:.

Fuck, she doesn't think she'll ever tire of the feel of him. He was the best she ever had in _this_ particular department. And David had been good, had required a lot of instruction, but he tried, he got the job done. He wasn't terrible, it's just that they never _fit._ He never understood her on this level, can't read her body the way Robin obviously, obviously does.

Robin's focused on his task, giving her the fluttery dabs with the tip of his tongue she's missed, still tries to imagine, to imitate sometimes, when she's alone and thinking about him. But nothing is as good as the real thing, and it's like no time at all has passed, like he's been doing this regularly to her for years. Then he slips two fingers inside her at the perfect angle and pumps slowly, and then switches to firm, slow licks from the bottom of her clit to the top, punctuated by a strong suck.

It's so achingly familiar and so mind numbingly tantalizing. Everything starts to spark inside her, each movement sends a warm tingle from her clit and spiders up from her center, her hair starts to stand on end, her body starts to tremble, and she can feel herself clenching around his fingers already.

"Oh, Robin please!" she cries out, "don't stop, I—"

He wraps his lips around her clit, and _Mmm_ s from the back of his throat, and the vibration sends her into overdrive.

Her hand flies down to the back of his head and she presses him against her firmly, grinding into his tongue shamelessly, and then she falls apart with a shout of his name.

She doesn't stop riding his face, hips rocking into him, not that he seems to mind. He's groaning and pressing into her himself, his hands hooked around her thighs, pulling her closer into him, reveling in it — god, she's missed sex that feels like _this,_ where there's passion and fire and love, not just well-worked for orgasm. She's never taking this for granted ever again.

When she's finally come down from that high (or mostly, her muscles are still twitching delightfully, little shocks of pleasure coursing through her) she goes limp, catching her breath, begging her husband (or he will be, soon enough) to fuck her again.

He must be as desperate for it as she is, because his mouth is off her in an instant, and he's scooting up her body and kissing her deeply. He tastes like her, mostly, a hint of something bitter she knows is _him_ , and he's right, it's not that bad. Sexy even.

"You know what I used to think about?" she asks, and he pauses, cocks his head and looks at her.

"I've thought about fucking you on that couch downstairs so many times over the last two months." she admits, "When we would just be talking, completely innocent, I was—"

"Me too," he moans, kissing her.

"I want it," she says in a breath sigh, "I want—"

He slides off the side of the bed and tugs her into her arms. "Let's go. Now."

She doesn't let him carry her down the stairs, though, shakes herself free just before that. He's still recovering, still a bit weak. And plus, the way down the steps is more fun with him behind her, grabbing her ass and moaning about how criminally good she looks. She pauses twice to turn around and kiss him, and once lets him feel her up while they kiss like teenagers. When he reaches the foot of the stairs he takes her, walks her back while kissing her cheeks, her neck, her jaw, and rubbing shamelessly at her ass.

By the time they make it to the couch, the anticipation combined with the remnants of pleasure from the last orgasm have her aching with need yet again. She pushes him down on the couch, and he flops down, smiling at her, legs spread apart, cock hard and stiff between them. She straddles him, and fuck, they've had enough foreplay, haven't they? So she takes him in her hand, lines him up where she needs him, and sits down on him.

He groans, and grips her ass in a way that feels electric and stimulating, sends a shiver through her. And then she starts to move, and _Oh my fucking god._

She's missed this position with him, fucking in this way, he fits her perfectly this way, fills her up, every thrust hits exactly where it needs to. Her forehead drops to his, their breath mixing, moaning together. Her thighs clench when Robin lets out this needy little whiny high pitched sound, it's low and soft, but _hot,_ so damn sexy.

One of his hands leaves her ass, grips at her ribs, moves her back, just a bit, so they can look at one another in the eyes.

"God, oh, fuck, Regina, love, you look... so fucking good…"

That hand moves to cup her breast and play with a nipple, and she watches as his eyes follow the movement, groaning deeply as he watches them bounce. The way he looks at her is ungodly sinful, sends a zing of pleasure through her body, has her wanting to come so badly she can't hold back. So she digs her knees into the couch harder, grips his shoulders with each hand and fucks him hard and fast. Her clit grinds into him with every pass, and it's amazing, feels so good, everywhere, she can't get enough of him, loves him so much.

"Oh _fuck!_ " Robin's eyes screw shut, biting his lip hard. His body has gone tense now, and she knows he has to be holding back, trying hard not to come, and for some reason that makes it even hotter, that he's trying so hard for her, delaying his own pleasure to make her feel as good as he can, fuck, he feels amazing.

"Close," she pants, "don't stop, not yet, so close…"

"Trying," he grimaces, "but you feel so good, so tight, so wet, all mine, love…"

It's the words _all mine_ that have her rocketing over the edge, coming with an _Ahhh!_ that might wake the neighbors, but she doesn't care, loves it, loves all of this. Loves the fact she gets _this_ again after being denied it so long.

She's so lucky.

He's spilling into her while she's still coming, cries out _I love you_ as he does, just a few thrusts behind her. She's still breathless, still coming, when she returns the sentiment.

When the last wave of orgasm rocks through her, she collapses against him, nestling into his shoulder, completely spent.

They are like that, for what seems like hours, her leaning into him on his lap, him with his arms around her waist, hot breath tickling the back of her neck.

"I can't move," she admits, her voice throaty and thick with exhaustion.

"Me either," he admits, chuckling softly, "I think you fucked the life out of me."

She's never been prouder. So she answers him with a satisfied, "I needed it."

"Glad to give it," he responds, still breathing heavy, "and I — I needed it, too. Perhaps more."

She hums into his neck, and then somewhere — somehow, finds the strength to remove herself from his lap and lie on the couch beside him. The tree is up and in the corner, everything looks all the more magnificent in the colored lights, the ornaments that spin and sparkle, bits of tinsel that shine in the dull glow.

"I love Christmas," Regina sighs, looking at the tree. "It's such a magical time, everything is so… packed with feeling. It's the sort of holiday you feel in your soul."

"It is," Robin agrees. "It's especially magical when you get exactly what you want for Christmas."

She turns to look at him, a raised eyebrow and asks, "And did you get what you wanted this year?"

His response is immediate. "You, naked, under my tree, and mine forever. I'd say Santa nailed it."

She laughs and shakes her head. "I miss this tree. And this house. And this fireplace. I miss Christmases where we'd stay up all night, pass out on this couch preparing everything for Henry. Our own little sleepover."

"Well…" Robin grabs a two throw pillows, and the blanket that's folded on the back of the couch. "Want to have one of those now? I mean… if you can stay the night..."

It's silly, perhaps, they have a giant beautiful bed. But there's a roaring fire, a beautifully decorated tree (which he did for her, she knows he did) and Robin's warm body beside her.

"I can stay. And that sounds perfect. We need to be up in a few hours so we are at David's before the kids wake up," she reminds.

The boyish way Robin's face lights up, she knows he won't mind the lack of sleep at all.

She snuggles into him on the couch, squished together and feeling the happiest she has in god knows how long.

Robin presses a kiss to her forehead, and whispers "Merry Christmas, Regina."

She hums and adjusts the blanket just a bit, wiggling into a perfect position. She admits in a soft whisper, "Best Christmas ever."

And then sleep overtakes her. She sleeps better than she has in weeks.


	10. Chapter 10

Her phone alarm goes off hours later, sounding off in a coat pocket. She has to leave the warmth of Robin to get it from where it dropped on the floor, then hits the restroom to clean herself up as best she can (she is about to see her children, after all, she shouldn't smell of sex). When she gets out, she finds Robin is awake, waiting for her. Naked, and hard, his eyes dark with lust.

It's an incredible turn on, seeing him like this. He places his arms on her waist, walking her back against the far wall.

"I know we have to get going..." Robin's hand traces up from her hip to her ribs, and the touch is electric, reminds her of last night, has her wanting it again. "...but there is no way it's healthy for me to leave this house without having you once more."

"We have to be quick," she warns, He's already running his hands lightly over her breasts now, and god, she needs him again.

He chuckles into her skin and tells her that speed has never really been a problem for him.

"You know what memory I like to revisit?" Robin asks, still keeping those infuriatingly teasing feathery touches. "Connecticut, when we went up for that party."

He dips down to suck on her pulse point. She's hypnotized by his touch, her eyes shut, drinking in the feeling. "Oh god, Rose's 65th birthday… I — that feels amazing — I can't believe we did that."

"We were quick," he rasps, "and you really needed it."

She did. She was pregnant, her hormones were crazy and he was leaving soon which seemed to add to her need. So in the middle of Robin's mother's 65th birthday party, Regina begged him to come with her for a second, dragged him off to the upstairs spare room and practically jumped on top of him.

They _were_ quick. But she still managed to come twice, crying out in the middle of one orgasm loud enough that she's _sure_ at least some of the party guests heard her.

"You were so wet," he groans. And then he swipes his fingers down to test her, to see how aroused she is. He groans at the feel of her, adding, "so hot, so gorgeous."

Regina gasps as his fingers circle her clit - slowly, nothing to get her off, but enough to have her body tingling, enough to feel that pulse of need.

"I was pregnant," she breathes, rocking into his touch. "I wasn't gorgeous. Just horny."

"You pull off both quite nicely," Robin murmurs, "and you _were_ gorgeous. And bold, and bossy, All things I love about you."

His free hand wanders down to her thigh, drawing it up so her bent knee is cradling his hip. He's rubbing her clit firmer strokes now, and it's good enough that she is gasping and sighing, rocking into his hand, eyes closed as she waits for him to fuck her. They are lined up perfectly now for him to fuck her up against this wall, but he hesitates. So she opens her eyes and finds him focusing on her.

"Alright?" he asks.

She rocks into him more deliberately, reminding him of how _obvious_ it is that she wants it. And then she simply orders him to do it, with a breathy "Fuck me."

He guides himself into her, one quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt. She shifts a bit, repositions so he's hitting the right spot (her body's a bit different now, and it's more apparent in this position). Then he kisses her, deeply, palms at her ass and just _fucks_ her.

Everything zings and pops, and he's working her up fast, each thrust hitting her deep inside, while Robin kisses and touches her. She likes him like this, aggressive and needy, fucking while he cries out _Oh fuck_ and _Missed you_ and _Fucking Christ, darling, you feel so perfect._ She knows she's babbling back (and fuck, her moans sound so raspy and deep, her throat still a bit sore from the sounds she made last night), but her mind is full of him, of the feeling of being with him like this, of the tingling sensation welling inside her, her release so close she can taste it.

She gets off fast in this position — always has — and she's pleased to find out _that_ hasn't changed (she's never actually fucked David standing up, is that odd?). Her orgasm overtakes her, crashes over and envelopes her, waves of pleasure dancing from her center and rippling outward, as she holds onto him for dear life.

"Fuck, you feel so good when you come," Robin moans, "look so beautiful, too. Love you — love this with you, I—I'm close, I'm going to—"

But they don't have time for her to take a proper shower, and she'd rather not deal with the mess, so despite the fact she's still coming down from her high, she shakes her head, and says "No, stop, don't come yet, pull out."

He looks absolutely horrified at the prospect, but does, giving her a questioning glance that disappears the moment she sinks to her knees.

"I want you to enjoy this," she coos, as she looks up devilishly at him.

"Believe me, I will," he says in ragged breath, "I was, I mean—"

"I was, too." She goes for sultry, wets her lips and admits, "I missed that position. Haven't had it since the last time we were together."

It works, has him groaning and tossing his head back, and when he looks down at her, he looks like absolute sex.

He's wet and slippery from her (she came _hard)_ and so, so close, he twitches in her touch, groaning out "I won't last long."

She assures him that it's fine, and then licks the tip of him, swirling her tongue down to the base as she sucks.

She feels his fingers in her hair as she works him with soothing, gentle caresses, his stuttering words of thanks and love, and then, an _Oh, Regina, I'm going to —_

She hums her approval then takes him in deeply, and then his cock pulses, and he lets go.

She swallows quickly, every last drop of him. She's missed him so much, as odd as it may seem, she's even missed his taste.

When the last of the orgasm leaves him, he leans against the wall, catching his breath, looking so sexy in the afterglow she swears her libido starts to pick up yet _again_.

But there is time for that later. Right now, they have Christmas morning with their children to get to.

.::.

Henry and Roland wake to find their mother and father by their tree, smiling and laughing with their Uncle David. And Robin couldn't be happier.

There's not as much tension between them, everything is out in the open now that their true feelings have been voiced. It had been a bit awkward at first, of course, coming into the man's home on Christmas morning after sleeping with his fiancé. But David greeted them both with a smile, shaking Robin's hand and telling him he was truly happy for them.

They'd talked a bit, mostly about what to tell the children (tomorrow perhaps, but today should just be about the holiday), and then on to lighter topics, recalling time they spent before Robin's disappearance. Then Henry and Roland had run in, excited for Christmas, and the conversation had dropped amidst the screeches of excitement to find presents under the tree and their father there to celebrate with them.

A part of Robin is still jealous of the time David spent fathering his sons and bedding his wife, still feels a bit sour over it, but he can finally feel _grateful_ for him and all he did for his family without feeling angry. There is no longer this oppressive weight hovering over them, threatening to drop at any moment.

The children open Robin's present last. It's simple, a plain envelope. Both children look confused, until Henry sees the contents and shouts.

"Disney World! We're going to Disney World!"

They had discussed it, after Robin decided no one toy was perfect for his sons, so it's not a surprise to Regina. But from the look on her face, she _is_ surprised when he hands her an envelope with a boyish shrug.

"I… uh, was feeling optimistic when I bought it," he explains. "Can you get the week off?"

"We are going to Disney World for a _whole week?_ " Roland squeals, bounding onto the couch and jumping on it, unable to control his excitement.

Regina laughs and then looks to Robin and tries to wink. "Yes, we are all going. As a family."

He glances down at her wedding band, still on her right hand. He's sure she has the engagement ring somewhere in her jewelry box, but he owes her a new ring, he thinks. He will go buy a brand new one, plan a proposal, and make a whole event out of it. Do it right. Make this marriage as meaningful and as special as their last.

.::.

Things don't always go according to plan. It happens later that evening, as he is preparing to go home. Roland whines and says he wishes his daddy could live with him all the time.

And Regina looks at Robin, and then to David, who simply nods.

"Well…" Regina says. "About that. How would you feel about you and me and Henry moving in with your daddy? So we can see him all the time?"

"Really?" Roland asks excitedly, "We can move back to our old house? And I can see Daddy every day?"

"Yes," Regina says cautiously.

Roland lets out a little _Yay!_ and runs to Robin, hugging him tightly. And god, it feels good to be welcomed like that, to have the love of his son despite being away from him for years. It's all due to Regina, and how she raised them to always know him and love him, even when they thought he was gone. He will never be able to repay her for this.

Henry is more reserved. At his age, he clearly knows what his mother and David were — and what it means that they are moving back without him. So it's no surprise when he simply asks, "What about Uncle David?"

"I'm going to be right here, buddy." David gives him a reassuring pat on the back. Roland looks upset that, puzzled at the idea that David will not be coming back with them.

"Does this mean you aren't marrying mom anymore?" Henry asks bluntly.

"No, we aren't getting married anymore," Regina says, "but we still care about one another."

"Did you get into a fight?" Henry asks nervously.

But David rushes to comfort him. "No, Henry. It wasn't a fight. We just decided we are better as friends. And your dad is back, your mom loves him very much."

Robin had been prepared for this, the worry in Henry's eye. To Roland, he's a legend, the man from videos and photos that he's finally got to meet. But Henry is old enough to remember him leaving, and old enough to make new, meaningful memories with David, and old enough to understand David won't play the same role in his life that he once did. And change — even good change — is scary for a child his age.

So Robin musters his strength and puts his child's comfort ahead of his pride, and bends down towards Henry, so they are eyelevel, promising, "You are going to see David all the time. I know you love him, and I love him for taking such good care of you and your mum. He'll always be family."

He means it, at least, every word is true. He may have some residual jealousy of David, he may not entirely trust the man as he once did, but he is family, and he did take wonderful care of his family.

His speech placates Henry, who smiles brightly and hugs him.

"I missed you, Dad. I love Disney World. But getting my dad back is my favorite gift ever. "

"Mine too!" Roland pipes up, running into the hug and wrapping his little arms around them both.

He looks up at Regina and smiles, mouths a silent _I love you_ that makes her blush. She mouths the words back, looking giddy, and what could be luckier than the woman you love actually loving you back? What could be better than the person you care most about actually putting you first herself?

Not many people get a second chance at life, but he's come back from a death of sorts, and now that he's living again, he's not going to waste a single moment.


End file.
